|
I'll photograph evening light |
|
And send at once, the setting sun |
|
To the ones that I love |
|
The bastards they will fall |
|
To the ground |
|
Splitting hairs and taking bites |
|
Trying always, to belong |
|
And we sing |
|
Oh oh, fairly well |
|
Oh, farewell, farewell |
|
Oh, fair warning |
|
To the walls that come between |
|
A loving father and a son |
|
I'll cut a path |
|
Through the trees |
|
Using only living leaves |
|
To the ones that I love |
|
And the bastards they will fall |
|
Dressing up and dressing down |
|
Our happy hearts |
|
They're beating twice |
|
Without beating once |
|
And we sing |
|
Oh oh, fairly well |
|
Oh, farewell, farewell |
|
Oh, fair warning |
|
To the walls that come between |
|
A loving father and a son |
|
And the bastards they will fall |
|
They're dressing up |
|
I'm dressing down |
|
And our happy hearts |
|
Are twice as fast |
|
Through the forest we will crawl |
|
I'll cut a path right through the trees |
|
Using only living leaves |
|
And our happy hearts are twice as fast |
|
They're splitting hairs and getting by |
|
Trying every day and always to belong |
|
Always to belong |
|
Trying every day and always to belong |
|
Always to belong |
