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...Us kids know...
Es todo lo que tengo y es todo lo que hay
10/8/09
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Las crónicas del viento, tremendo...
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Las crónicas del viento, tremendo...
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I took an air-rifle, shot a magpie to the ground & it died
without a sound. Your skin so pale against the fallen Autumn
leaves & no-one saw us but the trees.
Yeah, the trees, those useless trees produce the air
that I am breathing. Yeah, the trees, those useless trees;
they never said that you were leaving..............
I carved your name with a heart just up above -
now swollen, distorted, unrecognisable; like our love.
The smell of leaf mould & the sweetness of decay
are the incense at the funeral procession here, today.
In the trees, those useless trees,
produce the air that I am breathing.
Yeah, the trees, those useless trees;
they never said that you were leaving.
......................
You try to shape the world to what you want the world to be.
Carving your name a thousand times won't bring you back to me.
Oh no, no I might as well go & tell it to the trees. Go & tell
it to the trees. Go & tell it to the trees, yeah.
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