Still The Birds They Fly

In the morn’ we’ll go to the firs, the firs
In the morn’ we’ll go to the firs
In the morn’ I’ll leave you to burn, to burn
In the morn’ I’ll leave you to burn
Providence comes to the woman who waits
and leaves her lover to yearn
In the morning we’ll go to the firs, the firs
In the morning we’ll go to the firs

At noontide the black crow will caw, will caw
At noontide the black crow will caw
At noontide forget what you saw, you saw
At noontide forget what you saw
The treacherous marriage of rootwork and spite–
grinning and grasping it gnaws
At noontide the black crow will caw, will caw
At noontide the black crow will caw

Cover the paintings and burn the bread
Nothing is ever the same again
The young grow strong so the old may lie
Still, the birds they fly and fly
Still, the birds they fly

In evening the stars burn from heaven, from heaven
In evening the stars burn from heaven
In evening the old haints will beckon, will beckon
In evening the old haints will beckon
With coins on their eyes and gold on their bones
left lest they should ever awaken
In evening the stars burn from heaven, from heaven
In evening the stars burn from heaven

Cover the paintings and burn the bread
Nothing is ever the same again
The young grow strong so the old may lie
Still, the birds they fly and fly
Still, the birds they fly

Stop the clocks and lay with your dead
Nothing is ever the same again
The old grow weak so the young may thrive
Still, the birds they fly and fly
Still, the birds they fly

Still, the birds they fly and fly
Still, the birds they fly