Crown of leaves, high in the window on a gold morning
Young today, old as a railroad tomorrow
Days are just drops in the river to be lost always
Only you
Years ago, birds of a feather would arrive nightly
Gone you know, held to another like clutched ivy
On the shore, speak to the ocean and receive silence
Only you
Here as the caves of my memory fade, I'll hold to the first one
I wouldn't turn to another you say, on the long night we've made
Let it go
Speak to me slow my dear, no ghost of course in here,
Pleased to be lonesome quiet and clear, all is alone in here.
Writer(s): Robin Pecknold
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