Towing the line I watched the host drink all the wine

And now she rambles through the who've and who have nots

The old man is a painter of tired seascapes, tired of adventure

So my mind wanders picking at the table to cure the wrong

Like a bird in a world with no trees you were hung up there in your disbelief

I know I'm a hard rock to drag around.

Love is in the early mornings

In the shadows under the trees

Not in the cuckolded ashes

Floating down from the rookery.

Down here I crow for you

You crow for me

Down here I crow for you

You crow for me.

Towing the line I watched the host drink all the wine

And now I'm purring for a drop of anything

Throwing stones at your window you turn to me as if it's simple

Why can't you be like the blackbird and sing

I said I'm the westerlies in ireland so decadent and violent

Can't you see I'm a forager clawing at the bedrock.

Love is in the early mornings

In the shadows under the trees

Not in the cuckolded ashes

Floating down from the rookery.

Down here I crow for you

You crow for me

Down here I crow for you

You crow for me.