Oh, why would a river flow?

I haven’t yet had a chance to say
What’s been on my mind ever since the day
Summer left one early morning
The birds weren’t even started calling

Making love despite bad blood
Each upon another compass
Though the earth gives way to secrets
She always kept my deepest

And your eyes hang low
Oh, why would a river flow?
Deep as this thing goes
Cold november mornings always follow the show

There is a room in north east London
Beneath the streets, a dusty dungeon
The ballast and the concrete is cracked
The carpet wears a layer of black

That camera has an eye for detail
A taste for glass and over rail
So as you burn your invitation
Think of that which you’re forsaking

Her eyes hang low
Oh, why would a river flow?
How deep this thing goes
Cold november mornings always follow the show

A rusty trumpet plays your song
We know the words, we both sing along
Somehow on the final card
Skies collapse, the band falls apart

So it’s red leather and black tar
Line the creases and mark the bar
Four fathers stand in line
One for whiskey three for wine

Your eyes hang low
Oh, why would a river flow?
This deep thing just goes
Cold november mornings always follow the show

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