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• Artiste: Future Islands
• Titre: Old Friend
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i whisper the tongue like an old friend i cherish my time here alone i wait in the eyes of the passing nights, to help me laugh brushfires again by the swallows sleeve, i'm a new hand cutting out the shapes that burn me i can touch the mouths of these child gods and these true minds that hurt man and the will will go up to the crashing sails and the crushing wails of my old pan this wind screams while i'm asleep and dreams that these white eyes will smile again and the will will go up to the crashing sails and the crushing wails of my old pan this wind screams while i'm asleep and dreams that these white eyes will smile again i take to the road like an old man i cherish my time here alone i process the lines of the passing lights losing myself, i change my plans by the western walls, i'm a cursed hand by the eastern seas, i'm hardly wrong i can swing myself down from these trees when i crave a glimpse of weary sands i whisper the tongue like an old friend i cherish my time here alone i swing myself down from these trees to help me laugh brushfires again