- Lyrics
- Album list
Wool On Wolves
-
The Band's Marching Tune
These haphazard minstrels off Portland and Maine Don't sing like the poets They quote in refrain Now I don't claim to be one But I honestly say That I sing for the love of it And not for the pay
The pace of your heat-strings is slower than mine But they sing twice as sweetly So everything's fine Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com The time is for rich men in green grass so tall To wonder why our love is So far beyond the fall
Now you take me out softly To the bands marching tune The one about the thin man Who lived out a tune
-
|