This goose is cooked, these tongues are tied,
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Around the block and airborne blind,
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But looking on the brighter side,
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There's far less to which I'd be obliged,
|
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In the meadow where the black breeze blows,
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Where underneath the waves, you were most alone,
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Can you hear a subtle, aching tone?
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Through the water, through the Earth, trimmed up bone,
|
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Looking on the brighter side,
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Looking on the brighter side,
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Looking on the brighter side,
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Looking on the brighter side
|
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-----------------
|
Black Wave
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| The Shins |
