Saint Simon Songtext

von The Shins

After all these implements
And texts designed by
Intellects we're vexed to find
Evidently there's still so
Much that hides and though
The saints dub us divine in
Ancient fading lines their
Sentiment is just as hard to
Pluck from the vine

I'll try hard not to pretend
Allow myself no mock defense
As I step into the night

Since I don't have the
Time nor mind to figure out
The nursery rhymes
That helped us out
In making sense of our lives
The cruel, uneventful state of apathy
Releases me I value them but I
Won't cry
Everytime one's wiped out

I'll try hard not to give in
Batten down to fare the wind
Rid my head of this pretense
Allow myself no mock defense
As I step into the night

Mercy's eyes are blue
And when she places them
In front of you
Nothing holds a roman candle to
The solemn warmth you feel

There's no measuring of it
As nothing else is love