Songtext The lake district von Fionn Regan

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100 acres of sycamore

2011

The lake district

From the bannister I can see you cough and blast rainbows
Twenty seven summers press against the powder room windows
On returning eyes are lerning the language of your wrists
You twist them towards the chandalier and say who will be my witness?

On a beaded rug with jerusalem hymn watching the trawalers roll in
Lets start at the begining the drunk shouts whos your taylor on the preface
Of a power failer salashing out it's drakness
The steep ie riggers round the spires scramble
For holy work lights on great hooks hanging
You starigen your coif and mimic a stiff
The jurys back and its a crushing blow
For those who wish you ill and woe

You are the lake district
You dont need to speek
It wirtes in the air in chalk
Like subtitles walk across a foreign film screen

From the landing i can hear your hay-baled laughter singing
It breaks the white hourse hearts of all those assembling
To be an ornament that sparkles its clear those here would kill
But there's nowhere to hide if you become a city on the hill

On a beaded rug with jerusalem hymn watching the trawiers roll in
Lets start at the begining in a dingy parlor by a mantle swooning
With the ancient caverans of your eyes welling
The tail of russian headscarf landing
On your collar bone from your blouse protruding
You tighten your belt so its closer felt
The jurys back and its a crushing blow
For those who wish you ill and woe

You are the lake district
Marry me
In a registry
Like a foreign film scene

Let others publish our faults
Take my hand and we will walts
Below the cathedra i vaults
Spinning like a foreign film reel

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On a beaded rug with jerusalem hymn watching the trawalers roll in 
Lets start at the begining the drunk shouts whos your taylor on the preface 
Of a power failer salashing out it's drakness
The steep ie riggers round the spires scramble 
For holy work lights on great hooks hanging 
You starigen your coif and mimic a stiff 
The jurys back and its a crushing blow 
For those who wish you ill and woe

You are the lake district 
You dont need to speek 
It wirtes in the air in chalk 
Like subtitles walk across a foreign film screen

From the landing i can hear your hay-baled laughter singing 
It breaks the white hourse hearts of all those assembling 
To be an ornament that sparkles its clear those here would kill 
But there's nowhere to hide if you become a city on the hill

On a beaded rug with jerusalem hymn watching the trawiers roll in 
Lets start at the begining in a dingy parlor by a mantle swooning 
With the ancient caverans of your eyes welling 
The tail of russian headscarf landing 
On your collar bone from your blouse protruding 
You tighten your belt so its closer felt 
The jurys back and its a crushing blow 
For those who wish you ill and woe

You are the lake district 
Marry me 
In a registry 
Like a foreign film scene

Let others publish our faults 
Take my hand and we will walts 
Below the cathedra i vaults 
Spinning like a foreign film reel