Текст песни Old Mission (Ben Weaver) с переводом

From the banks of that old mission under a vein of sycamore

I lay like a switchblade reflecting the moon

Scraping the spine blood from a trout with the back of my thumb

Start a fire on the beach and just lay listening to it burn

Time is the river polishing the stone

Curiosity is faith with no backbone

An owl cuts your silhouette from the bark of an elm

And laces your boots with the twine from a scare crows belt

Pitch fork dreams and typewriter prayers

The wind catches and turns the spades of your windmill heart

Every time I thought I was lost

Just packed my bags and my chains fell off

I went into the woods like a cold hand goes into a glove

A salt box shack outlined by chimney smoke with parts of old cars laying out in the yard

Everyday the sun rakes through the window across my table across my floor

There’s a family of starlings living in the soffit over my front door

Sometimes I hide behind the man you think I am But it’s only because I don’t want to come across anything like them

Ambition has destroyed my morals but time has given me grace

A kestrel Slaughterhouse birds sing behind all the cracks in my porcelain face

Wish I had a million bucks so I could at least say I threw it all away

Now my life is pitch black and I’m just counting down the days

Ask me if it burns I’ll show you the flame

Ask me if it bleeds I’ll show you the vein

My story hangs from the clothesline leaking dead sunlight all over my past

Youth has become the fabric the moth of old age destroys

There is no romance in a lonely heart and a frozen soul

But a dog does what he does because he’s a dog

I used to be skin and now I’m a soar

Closer I get to heaven quicker they shut the door

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