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And after the storm,
I run and run as the rains come
And I look up, I look up,
on my knees and out of luck,
I look up.

Night has always pushed up day
You must know life to see decay
But I won’t rot, I won’t rot
Not this mind and not this heart,
I won’t rot.

And I took you by the hand
And we stood tall,
And remembered our own land,
What we lived for.

And there will come a time, you’ll see, with no more tears.
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.
Get over your hill and see what you find there,
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.

And now I cling to what I knew
I saw exactly what was true
But oh no more.
That’s why I hold,
That’s why I hold with all I have.
That’s why I hold.

I will die alone and be left there.
Well I guess I’ll just go home,
Oh God knows where.
Because death is just so full and mine so small.
Well I’m scared of what’s behind and what’s before.

And there will come a time, you’ll see, with no more tears.
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.
Get over your hill and see what you find there,
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.

And there will come a time, you’ll see, with no more tears.
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.
Get over your hill and see what you find there,
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair

Click here for the lyrics of Low Anthem’s masterpiece “Charlie Darwin”

The Copenhagen Collective covers Band of Horses’ break out song Funeral :


 

I’m coming up only to hold you under
I’m coming up only to show you wrong
And to know you is hard and we wonder
To know you all wrong, we were

Really too late to call, so we wait for
Morning to wake you; it’s all we got
To know me as hardly golden
Is to know me all wrong, they were

At every occasion I’ll be ready for a funeral
At every occasion once more is called a funeral
Every occasion I’m ready for the funeral
At every occasion one brilliant day funeral

I’m coming up only to show you down for
I’m coming up only to show you wrong
To the outside, the dead leaves, they all blow (alive is very poetic)
For’e (before) they died had trees to hang their hope

At every occasion I’ll be ready for the funeral
At every occasion once more is called the funeral
At every occasion I’m ready for the funeral
At every occasion one brilliant day funeral

Darling it’s better
Down where it’s wetter
Take it from me.

I wanted love, I needed love,
Most of all, most of all
Someone said true love was dead
And I’m bound to fall,
bound to fall for you

“I didn’t want to be your ghost
I didn’t want to be anyone’s ghost.”

[I've been listening to this song for weeks and it's still mysterious]

Cold Summer

Your teeth too big for your mouth
Every summer we’d pull the stinger out
Drinking like our parents did
Drunk at the dance, I knew you hid
Picture of her eyes under your skin
She wasen’t old enough to let love in
I can see your eyes turn blue
I can see the weather changing you
Cold summers, one after the other
Got old fast, grew tired of each other
Born across from you
Proud sleepless child, followed her
It’s getting harder to find it in me
Bite my lip, fall asleep
But now, but now can be
Falling down
Filling, filling the empty
She could sing to shipmen
I lay my eyes on you
Down where we grew lost
Find your month and winter skin
It’s getting harder to find it in me
I scab my wounds and fall asleep
But now, but now can be
Falling down
Filling, filling the empty

Let’s go downtown and watch the modern kids
Let’s go downtown and talk to the modern kids
They will eat right out of your hand
Using great big words that they don’t understand
They say

Rococo, rococo, rococo, rococo
Rococo, rococo, rococo, rococo

They build it up just to burn it back down
They build it up just to burn it back down
The wind is blowing all the ashes around
Oh my dear god what is that horrible song they’re singing

Rococo, rococo, rococo, rococo
Rococo, rococo, rococo, rococo
Rococo, rococo, rococo, rococo
Rococo, rococo, rococo, rococo
Rococo, rococo!
Rococo!

They seem wild but they are so tame
They seem wild but they are so tame
They’re moving towards you with their colors all the same
They want to own you but they don’t know what game they’re playing

Rococo, rococo, rococo, rococo
Rococo!
Rococo!

(Rococo)
(Rococo)

Rococo!
Rococo!

(Rococo)
(Rococo)

Rococo!

Neighborhood #3 (Power Out)

Kids are swingin’ from the power lines,
nobody’s home, so nobody minds.

Neighborhood #4 (7 Kettles)

My eyes are covered by the hands of my unborn kids

No Cars Go

(Hey!) Us kids know
(Hey!) No cars go
Where we know

The Suburbs

The kids want to be so hard
But in my dreams we’re still screaming and running through the yard

Ready to Start

All the kids have always known
That the emperor wears new clothes
But to bow down to them anyway
Is better than to be alone

Rococo

Let’s go downtown and watch the modern kids
Let’s go downtown and talk to the modern kids
They will eat right out of your hand
Using great big words that they don’t understand

Month of May

The kids are all standing with their arms folded tight
Now some things are pure and some things are right
But the kids are still standing with their arms folded tight

Wasted Hours

You watch the life you’re living disappear
and now I see, we’re still kids in buses, longing to be free

Sprawl I (Flatland)

 “Well, where do you kids live?”
Well, sir, if you only knew what the answer’s worth
I’ve been searching every corner of the earth

I drew a picture of you
You and your anchor tattoo
And saw the face that I knew
Covered in shame
You drew a bird that was here
A kind of sweet chanticleer
But with a terrible fear
That the cage couldn’t tame

That’s how I knew this story would break my heart
When you wrote it
That’s how I knew this story would break my heart

So, like a ghost in the snow
I’m getting ready to go
‘Cause baby, that’s all I know –
How to open the door
And though the exit is crude
It saves me coming unglued
For when you’re not in the mood
For the gloves and the canvas floor

That’s how I knew this story would break my heart
When you wrote it
That’s how I knew this story would break my heart

That’s how I knew this story would break my heart
When you wrote it
That’s how I knew this story would break my heart

Your heart felt good
it was drippin’ pitch
and made of wood

Follow me on the Twittah

  • My wife hates it when I eat chips in bed, which is a ridiculous thing to get upset over. I mean, I hate how many chips get all over the bed. 1 month ago
  • HYPOTHETICAL QUESTION: Say you have a pic of your wife in a red "I Heart Cans" cap flashing a gang sign. Could you post it on the internet? 2 months ago
  • Really bummed cause I got a ticket. Asked the cop if he spoke Police-Latin. Upyay. 2 months ago
  • Wife just said that I should "exfoliate my eyebrows". She's flirting, right? That's the kinky stuff, right? 2 months ago
  • FACT: (Shhhh, the word really is pronounced "lysdexic") 2 months ago

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