The wind from the north, flattens the yellow corn.
You come into the house, with your dress torn.
I can see you now, as through a screen.
A smile on your face, your fingers dripping kerosene
Your hair hangs down, over me.
Your hair casts a shadow to cover me.
I can see you now, as through a screen.
A smile on your face, your fingers dripping kerosene
The wind from the north, cools me.
The wind from the north, doesn't fool me.
I can see you now, as through a screen.
A smile on your face, your fingers dripping kerosene
Writer(s): John S Darnielle
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