Dead Feathers - The Pines

That hangs down from a midwest moon

As smoke rolls, out of the windows

Of my heart into the sky

Where falling stars disappear

It’s an old, lonely city

We brush our teeth to the sound of sirens

An illusion of safety

A harpsichord on a gravel road

My heart’s on fire but my hands are cold

We tremble in the bow echo

So much beauty and kindness

In the world it makes me cry

I beg of you, your Highness

Please show mercy on the tender ones

In the low and lonesome glow

We tremble in the bow echo

We lay awake in the dark so gold

We worry all the night

We hurry away the days

Through the frugalness

We go

We tremble in the bow echo

We lay awake in the dark so gold