Through crooked teeth and mouthed up ties
|
They spit you up river just like all those lions
|
That walked the banks
|
|
They said, "Paint me that river
|
And would you use only blues
|
With a brilliant big black mouth and?
|
Lengths of pines that route the river through
|
Through and through"
|
|
Fashion ballrooms of the leaves
|
We’d like to watch the ghosts dance
|
|
They said, "Paint me that arm
|
That lies directly over mountains
|
Where the glaciers climb so tall.
|
One absent of the scars passing boats and ships and oars
|
Tend to leave with all the sounds of the ocean."
|
|
I am but a man
|
But a proud, proud man
|
Silver bells that line the way
|
Through baited trails.
|
We’ll find you there
|
|
-----------------
|
A.K.A. M80 The Wolf
|
| Portugal. The Man |
