Constellations Echo Lanes Songtext
von The Clientele

Dust of football fields still rising
To a cardboard moon
Wreaths of dark linoleum are
Sailing to the moon
Tea at the refectory
Then your fingers start to freeze
As the nights draw in
And we drift like smoke White nights rise
Birds all night
Calling from the downs
Whin flowers bloom
Empty rooms
Walls turn into flowers
And inside you something changed
Something falling away


Constellations echo lanes, the pylons and the still parade
Constellations echo lanes, the pylons and the still parade
Constellations echo lanes, the pylons and the still parade
Constellations echo lanes, the pylons and the still parade
Constellations echo lanes, the pylons and the still parade

Constellations echo lanes, the pylons and the still parade