Towing the Line

Towing the line I watched the host drink all the wine
And now she rambles through the who've and who have nots
The old man is a painter of tired seascapes, tired of adventure
So my mind wanders picking at the table to cure the wrong
Like a bird in a world with no trees you were hung up there in your disbelief
I know I'm a hard rock to drag around

Love is in the early mornings
In the shadows under the trees
Not in like the colded ashes
Floating down from the rook array

Down here I crow for you
You crow for me
Down here I crow for you
You crow for me

Towing the line I watched the host drink all the wine
And now I'm purring for a drop of anything
Throwing stones at your window you turn to me as if it's simple
Why can't you be like the blackbird and sing
I said I'm the westerlies in Ireland so decadent and violent
Can't you see I'm a forager crawling at the bedrock

Love is in the early mornings
In the shadows under the trees
Not in like the colded ashes
Floating down from the rook array

Down here I crow for you
You crow for me
Down here I crow for you
You crow for me