The Birds Are Spies, They Report To The Trees - Is Subjective
to give a slow
sorrowful reading
a few brass coins
clutched in my bony fists
gathered together
in one room
for the first time
born three years ahead of time
nineteen seventy-nine
throwing shoes at passing cars
fitting initiation
attacked your books with a knife
convincing me you have
nothing to say
the smell of your own work
is the smell of death
sorrowful reading
a few brass coins
clutched in my bony fists
gathered together
in one room
for the first time
born three years ahead of time
nineteen seventy-nine
throwing shoes at passing cars
fitting initiation
attacked your books with a knife
convincing me you have
nothing to say
the smell of your own work
is the smell of death
Top songs by The Birds Are Spies, They Report To The Trees
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