Spent so long sitting on this fence I do forget which side made sense, and which limb do I belong to?
Caught between the borders of yourself and your lover and your ever-disappearing common sense
Which side did I crawl up? I do forget what I have got
Can’t seem to see; can’t seem to see straight through the wind
Through the wind, through the wind; can’t seem to see straight through the wind
You start the day off with a smile, and if that smile would just last, then you would not have to cry
Reach but never really grasp, if your dreams would just pass then you would not have to try
When there is summer there is sweat my love; where there is spring there is smell
To many open spaces in this hell my love; to many cracks in this shell
Through the wind, through the wind; can’t seem to see straight through the wind
Through the wind, through the wind; can’t seem to see straight through the wind
In my open bed, come and lay down your nest, give your innocence a rest, let there be spring
If I am not your one; if I am the setting sun, when tomorrow comes you can freely leave
Where flowers bloom, so does hope my love; the only solitary need
Takes time to realize what it is my love; the hunger has to satisfy the greed
Through the wind, through the wind; can’t seem to see straight through the wind
Through the wind, through the wind; can’t seem to see straight through the wind
By thorns and worldly scent, give your water for rent, to be sucked, to be spent, to be snapped, to be bent
No, you are not those things you've done; the day gives in; the setting sun consents the deep and dim to come on in
Where trees grow so does trust my love; the roots are at the foot of everything
This garden is a lame man’s crutch my love, the grass must be cruel unto the weed
Under the shade of this spindle tree, we tend to the prickle of the falling leaves
And pledge our devotion to the manic and the switch; the itch and the magic
The magic keeps us floating through the wind
Oh, through the wind; can’t seem to see straight through the wind
Oh, through the wind, through the wind; can’t seem to see straight through the wind
Tend to our garden make love in it, put its rose around your neck and put its nectar within
And you will know that you can never leave and that you can never win
Its vines are tight around our legs my love; its thorns are wrapped around our heads
Where bloody paths intersect; our lives create a crucifix; the birds drink where the blood drips
Through the wind, through the wind; can’t seem to see straight through the wind
Gentle Persons Club: are an independent indie folk 5 piece from Australia. It features violin, trumpet and tin whistle
melodies. Together GPC explore the sound and concepts of world roots' music with contemporary arrangements and well-crafted song writing....more
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