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My hearts stopped pumping but my blood is still alive.
The rain hits the ground and the trees they dry it up. (Swallows drop in and dice the sky)
My eyes wake up but my brain is sleeping fine. (Tracing lines of cursive on the horizon)
One more thing for you and I to do before (Cuttin' cat faces in the pine)
We shut our eyes, and that's blame (Cuttin' cat faces in the pine)
Me and I'll blame you, and we're both right.
Cuttin cat faces in the pines
They say his teeth are wood and they want my pictures of him. (Mark the path back to the point of departure)
The rain hits the ground and the trees they dry it up. (2 by 2 and 4 by 4, the pines, they lay down)
We're wood screws, all of our lives
Yeah, we're wood screws, all of our lives
The rain hits the ground and the trees they dry it up. (Well I laid down with the southern rage)
My chain hits the wood and the wood it turns to dust. (Swallows drop in and dice the sky)
I picture you as if you were a pine (Tracing lines of cursive on the horizon)
My hearts stopped pumping but my blood is still alive
We're wood screws, all of our lives (Cuttin' cat faces in the pines)
Yeah, We're wood screws, all of our lives (Mark the path back to the point of departure)
Well my heart stopped pumping but my blood is still alive (2 by 2 and 4 by 4 the pines, they lay down)
And I lay down with the southern range
I lay down with the southern range
The rain hits the ground and the trees they dry it up. (Swallows drop in and dice the sky)
My eyes wake up but my brain is sleeping fine. (Tracing lines of cursive on the horizon)
One more thing for you and I to do before (Cuttin' cat faces in the pine)
We shut our eyes, and that's blame (Cuttin' cat faces in the pine)
Me and I'll blame you, and we're both right.
Cuttin cat faces in the pines
They say his teeth are wood and they want my pictures of him. (Mark the path back to the point of departure)
The rain hits the ground and the trees they dry it up. (2 by 2 and 4 by 4, the pines, they lay down)
We're wood screws, all of our lives
Yeah, we're wood screws, all of our lives
The rain hits the ground and the trees they dry it up. (Well I laid down with the southern rage)
My chain hits the wood and the wood it turns to dust. (Swallows drop in and dice the sky)
I picture you as if you were a pine (Tracing lines of cursive on the horizon)
My hearts stopped pumping but my blood is still alive
We're wood screws, all of our lives (Cuttin' cat faces in the pines)
Yeah, We're wood screws, all of our lives (Mark the path back to the point of departure)
Well my heart stopped pumping but my blood is still alive (2 by 2 and 4 by 4 the pines, they lay down)
And I lay down with the southern range
I lay down with the southern range
Lyrics submitted by mahargrepooc13
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i think the song is a bit deeper than what some have you have suggested. i get a sense of emptiness, longing, death, nostalgia for the vastness of everything. he is alive, but is not passionate about anything; nothing to get his heart pumping- he uses nature as a metaphor, implying essentially the cyclic nature to existence, the trees are lain by our hands, turning to dust--suggesting the finality of life--and he lays as well, perhaps reminiscing a life lived, and recognizing the beauty and/or futility of it--visions of the point of departure, where life begins, or life ends. this song deserves much more attention. i wish isaac would comment.
@roland Holy shit, you nailed it. Thank you for putting pen to page (so to speak) so I could read this.