One does not fall “in” or “out” of love. One grows in love.

Leo Buscaglia

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Neat Little Rows
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Ca sĩ: Elbow
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My high priestess folded neatly, back in your box, oh Lord
Call the song he sang so sweetly, back in your box, oh Lord
Found myself astride a tiger lifting my head, just like you said
Drown me now in doubt of ire, get me to bed, oh Lord
 
Lay my bones in cobblestones
Lay my bones in neat little rows
Lay my bones in cobblestones
Lay my bones in neat little rows
 
Angels and idols, spiraling wild, windin' your necks, oh Lord
Landed gentry, ride on behind me, windin' your necks, oh Lord
Smokey progress, back room changes, let me back in, put back the pin
'Cause now I found those sought out pages, can't read the text, oh Lord
 
Lay my bones in cobblestones
Lay my bones in neat little rows
Lay my bones in cobblestones
Lay my bones in neat little rows
 
In the house, where they grew you
There were secrets and mistakes
That the eyes that see through you
Would give anything to erase
But picture they're counting your fingers
Waiting for the focus of your eyes
No no, don't point fingers
Fingers are for pointing at the sky
No no, don't point fingers
Fingers are for pointing at the sky
 
Lay my bones in cobblestones
Lay my bones in neat little rows
Lay my bones in cobblestones
Lay my bones in neat little rows