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Birds of Bellwoods



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Birds of Bellwoods

Grey Ghosts

In the valley,
Underneath the town,
You will find me
Wilting in my pit of golden hours,
Waiting for
The sun to trickle down.

I wait for summer
Drops from the wicker tree
Down, down down.

This too will stray.

Do not let them tell me all I know.

Do not let them pull me down to the deep below
(down to the deep below)
When you look up and it's not like a week ago
(not like a week ago)
Do not let them pull me down to the deep below
(down to the deep below)
When you wake up with those grey grey ghosts.

Set my bed on fire today.
Whiskey makes the trouble fade,
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Weightless as you walk away;
No curtains but the window stays.

Do not let them pull me down to the deep below
(do not let them pull me)
Do not let them tell me all I know.

Do not let them pull me down to the deep below,
(down to the deep below)
When you look up and it's not like a week ago,
(not like a week ago)
Do not let them pull me down to the deep below,
(down to the deep below)
When you wake up with those grey grey ghosts.

Branches from the willow round,
Only certain of my doubt;
My many hearts are calling out,
And every one is filled with sound,
And dust is what will build the town
And dust will always be my crown.

Do not let them tell me all I know.