Saint Simon - the Shins

After all these implements and text designed by intellects

So vexed to find evidently there’s just so much that hides

And though the saints of us divine in ancient feeding lines

Their sentiment is just as hard to pluck from the vine

I’m trying hard not to pretend

Allow myself no mock defense

Step into the night

Since I don’t have the time nor mind to figure out

The nursery rhymes that helped us out and make a sense of our lives

The cruel uneventful state of apathy releases me I value them but I won’t cry if the time was wiped out

I’m trying hard not to give in Battened down to fair the wind

Rid my head of this pretense

Allow myself no mock defense

Step into the night…

Mercy’s eyes are blue

When she places them in front of you

Nothing holds a roman candle to The solemn warmth you feel inside

There’s no measuring of it As nothing else is love

I’ll try hard not to give in Battened down to fair the wind

Rid my head of this pretense

Allow myself no mock defense

Step into the night…

Mercy’s eyes are blue

When she places them in front of you

Nothing really holds a candle to The solemn warmth you feel inside of you