Drop It Doe Eyes Lyrics

	作曲 : Team Campesinos!
	You expected my war diaries
	But time ran out and I, I let you down
	A small thanks note written in French is no shorthand for
	"This thing gave me writer's cramp"
	Another dream about shapeshifting
	Well we move with such elegance, with such grace
	With all our dignity just in place
	Deer die with their eyes wide open, eyes wide open, eyes wide open
	Deer die with their eyes wide open
	Drawing tiny little pictures of skeletons
	To get across the sense of impending doom
	And the leaves like the artwork to "Major Leagues" look like dead foxes on the hard shoulder
	And for some reason I think that I attributed this story
	To the bypass of the town I hadn't visited
	So goes the backing track of all the sighs we'd ever sighed
	Deer die with their eyes wide open, eyes wide open, eyes wide open
	Deer die with their eyes wide open
	Drawing tiny little pictures of skeletons
	To get across the sense of impending doom
	And I am 17 pages through this notebook now
	And there are little more than pictures of how I see you in an X-ray machine
	That's more like a television screen
	And you're in a rut, and I know that you know what I mean
	And then the realisation hits that not even two gospel choirs could save us now
	Turn up on your doorstep
	Feeling like roadkill
	Tasting like postage stamps
	And when I touch you
	You fold up like an envelope
	With everything I ever wrote
	Pouring out of your mouth.

	zuo qu : Team Campesinos!
	You expected my war diaries
	But time ran out and I, I let you down
	A small thanks note written in French is no shorthand for
	" This thing gave me writer' s cramp"
	Another dream about shapeshifting
	Well we move with such elegance, with such grace
	With all our dignity just in place
	Deer die with their eyes wide open, eyes wide open, eyes wide open
	Deer die with their eyes wide open
	Drawing tiny little pictures of skeletons
	To get across the sense of impending doom
	And the leaves like the artwork to " Major Leagues" look like dead foxes on the hard shoulder
	And for some reason I think that I attributed this story
	To the bypass of the town I hadn' t visited
	So goes the backing track of all the sighs we' d ever sighed
	Deer die with their eyes wide open, eyes wide open, eyes wide open
	Deer die with their eyes wide open
	Drawing tiny little pictures of skeletons
	To get across the sense of impending doom
	And I am 17 pages through this notebook now
	And there are little more than pictures of how I see you in an Xray machine
	That' s more like a television screen
	And you' re in a rut, and I know that you know what I mean
	And then the realisation hits that not even two gospel choirs could save us now
	Turn up on your doorstep
	Feeling like roadkill
	Tasting like postage stamps
	And when I touch you
	You fold up like an envelope
	With everything I ever wrote
	Pouring out of your mouth.

	zuò qǔ : Team Campesinos!
	You expected my war diaries
	But time ran out and I, I let you down
	A small thanks note written in French is no shorthand for
	" This thing gave me writer' s cramp"
	Another dream about shapeshifting
	Well we move with such elegance, with such grace
	With all our dignity just in place
	Deer die with their eyes wide open, eyes wide open, eyes wide open
	Deer die with their eyes wide open
	Drawing tiny little pictures of skeletons
	To get across the sense of impending doom
	And the leaves like the artwork to " Major Leagues" look like dead foxes on the hard shoulder
	And for some reason I think that I attributed this story
	To the bypass of the town I hadn' t visited
	So goes the backing track of all the sighs we' d ever sighed
	Deer die with their eyes wide open, eyes wide open, eyes wide open
	Deer die with their eyes wide open
	Drawing tiny little pictures of skeletons
	To get across the sense of impending doom
	And I am 17 pages through this notebook now
	And there are little more than pictures of how I see you in an Xray machine
	That' s more like a television screen
	And you' re in a rut, and I know that you know what I mean
	And then the realisation hits that not even two gospel choirs could save us now
	Turn up on your doorstep
	Feeling like roadkill
	Tasting like postage stamps
	And when I touch you
	You fold up like an envelope
	With everything I ever wrote
	Pouring out of your mouth.

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