An Island - Devendra Banhart

And all my fingers ran off

And I just couldn’t follow them

Your eyelash was an island

And your eyes were someone’s friend

Oh could that have been

Well I hardly was a real sweet thing

Now when my smells grew some new smells

And I just couldn’t smell them all

I smell my sister in the winter

And my father in the fall

Cross and then snow

A tired moan