I went down among the dust and pollen
|
To the old stone fountain in the morning after dawn
|
Underneath were all these pennies fallen from the hands of children
|
They were there and then were gone
|
|
And I wonder what became of them
|
What became of them
|
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Sunlight over me no matter what I do
|
Apples in the summer are gold and sweet
|
Everyday a passing complete
|
|
I'm not one to ever pray for mercy
|
Or to wish on pennies in the fountain or the shrine
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But that day you know I left my money
|
And I thought of you only
|
All that copper glowing fine
|
|
And I wonder what become of you
|
What became of you
|
|
Sunlight over me no matter what I do
|
Apples in the summer are gold and sweet
|
Everyday a passing complete
|
Apples in the summer are gold and sweet
|
Everyday a passing complete
|
|
In the morning waking up to terrible sunlight
|
All diffuse feels like skin abuse the sun is half its size
|
When you talk you hardly even look in my eyes
|
In the morning, in the morning
|
|
In the doorway holding every letter that I wrote
|
In the driveway pulling away putting on your coat
|
In the ocean washing off my name from your throat
|
In the morning, in the morning
|
|
In the ocean washing off my name from your throat
|
In the morning, in the morning
|
|
Green apples hang from my tree
|
They belong only to me
|
Green apples hang from my green apple tree
|
They belong only to, only to me
|
|
And if I just stay awhile here staring at the sea
|
And the waves break ever closer, ever near to me
|
I will lay down in the sand and let the ocean leave
|
Carry me to Innisfree like pollen on the breeze
|
|
-----------------
|
The Shrine / An Argument
|
| Fleet Foxes |
