Old Machines - Grasscut

Speed, speed, cutting into the trees

And the sharpened breath of a mountain stream

Colour these fields with our hands and eyes

Follow these hills with a slow climb

In the air the distant clangs and dreams

The city birds that haunt that haunt these old machines

Deep, deep, sinking into the trees

And the darkened veins of a mountain leaf

And in the air the distant clangs and dreams

The city birds that haunt these old machines

Moving out, out, out

Moving out, out, out

Moving out, out, out

Speed, speed, cutting into the trees

And the sharpened breath of a mountain stream

And by the shadows of a swollen sky

The city birds who gather on the wire

Through the darkness hidden in the trees

The city wolves which stalk these old machines

Moving out, out, out

Moving out, out, out

Moving out, out, out