Song | Shouting Distance |
Artist | Benoît Pioulard |
Album | Lasted |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
You’d cut a man down when his life is at its sweetest | |
Cos he yearns to be found where the lamplight’s weakest | |
The picking of battles like new persimmons | |
Not high in the saddle but torn to ribbons | |
Oh the time the tone will lag & rush | |
Traced in placid places growing flush | |
Oh the time the tone will rush & lag | |
Preside over design with smoldered drags | |
A mural of moments of sharing progression | |
Vireos on wires to sing hymns of confession | |
They’ll rouse a man’s fear when it’s dormant as winter | |
As the yen to be near fetters faith into splinters | |
Oh the tone the time will lag & rush | |
His eye is on a sparrow & the thrush | |
Oh the tone the time will rush & lag | |
As the roofs & eaves deteriorate & sag |
You' d cut a man down when his life is at its sweetest | |
Cos he yearns to be found where the lamplight' s weakest | |
The picking of battles like new persimmons | |
Not high in the saddle but torn to ribbons | |
Oh the time the tone will lag rush | |
Traced in placid places growing flush | |
Oh the time the tone will rush lag | |
Preside over design with smoldered drags | |
A mural of moments of sharing progression | |
Vireos on wires to sing hymns of confession | |
They' ll rouse a man' s fear when it' s dormant as winter | |
As the yen to be near fetters faith into splinters | |
Oh the tone the time will lag rush | |
His eye is on a sparrow the thrush | |
Oh the tone the time will rush lag | |
As the roofs eaves deteriorate sag |
You' d cut a man down when his life is at its sweetest | |
Cos he yearns to be found where the lamplight' s weakest | |
The picking of battles like new persimmons | |
Not high in the saddle but torn to ribbons | |
Oh the time the tone will lag rush | |
Traced in placid places growing flush | |
Oh the time the tone will rush lag | |
Preside over design with smoldered drags | |
A mural of moments of sharing progression | |
Vireos on wires to sing hymns of confession | |
They' ll rouse a man' s fear when it' s dormant as winter | |
As the yen to be near fetters faith into splinters | |
Oh the tone the time will lag rush | |
His eye is on a sparrow the thrush | |
Oh the tone the time will rush lag | |
As the roofs eaves deteriorate sag |