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• Artiste: Ben Howard
• Titre: Rookery
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Birch tree lost its branch one day in violent winter I said it was grieving, you said it don't feel nothing I bet you think everything's in its rightful place That sentiment is man's disgrace Well the rooks in the trees, they don't half bother me Clawing at my mind with every given opportunity It's spring outside, a perilous sky and that terrible clattering sound "Fuck it," you said, "You should go shoot them down" So hey, that's me Shooting at a hundred-year-old rookery Oh, look at me The definition of futility That's what you say anyway So I'll go back to working through the gentle hours of the evening Where the weather and the wine and the company treat me easily Unknowing am I to the wind that took my eye Unknowing am I of the wind Unknowing am I of the wind that took my eye Unknowing am I of the wind Unknowing am I of the wind that took my eye Unknowing am I of the wind Unknowing am I of the wind that took my eye Unknowing am I of the wind