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• Artiste: Dry The River
• Titre: Night Owls
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On this little cold parcel of land where our father's fathers lived The same old trees scraping innocently since our grandparents were kids. You were born in a terrible storm and your Ma said "It's a sign." You're never at peace with your back facing east and your itchy feet like mine. We should change our names and go for guts and glory, never cut our hair, or give a care for right. 'Cause they've got us by the throat, they've got us on a tight rope. You can tell your furious father, he can have my guts for garters if he likes. Some need, like the trunk of a tree, to accumulate alone, and in time grow ripe on the vine and I think we might be those. On this cold little parcel of land where our father's fathers lived We scrape our knees climbing innocent trees Like our father's fathers did We should change our names and go for guts and glory Never cut our hair, or give a care for right. Cause they've got us by the throat, they've got us on a tight rope You can tell your furious father he can have my guts for garters if he likes You can tell your furious father he can have my guts for garters if he likes.