Shins, The - Saint Simon текст песни

After all

These implements

And texts designed by intellects

We're vexed to find

Evidently there's still so much that hides

And though

The saints dub us divine

In ancient fading lines

Their sentiment is just as hard to

Pluck from the vine



I'll try hard not to pretend

Allow myself to mock defense

As I step into the night



Since I don't have time nor mind

To figure out the nursery rhymes

That helped us out in making sense of our lives

The cruel, uneventful state

of apathy releases me

I value them but I won't cry every time one's wiped out

I'll try hard not to give in

Batten down to fare the wind

Rid my head of this pretense

Allow myself no mock defense

As I step into the night



Mercy's eyes are blue

And when she places them

In front of you

Nothing holds a

Roman candle to

The solemn warmth you feel



There's no measuring of it as nothing else is love