Portugal. The Man - Stables & Chairs

I met a face, ring rounded pocket eyes
That shaped folded banks inside
He shivered out thoughts
They went, "Golden and pale, wind whispers, breathe New Orleans"
Through basements and racetracks
Met hollowed out from stretching mouths

All these thoughts rolled onto needles that
Spilled from heads, tumble like apples
Fell into the sky, that's where they'll hide
Where rubies turned diamonds like textures, like sunshine
They say, behind hands arms lift into its own
Behind hands arms lift into its own

As the stadium sheds out the crowd into the streets
And out of their throats pours, tongues licking down
"What will they become?"

Rhythms fed gently in vacuums perspired
Will stay where it's warm
Where it's safe from the down beating drums
Bum-bum-bum, bum-bum, bum-bum
They went, "Golden and pale, wind whispers, breathe New Orleans"
Behind hands arms lift into its own
Behind hands arms lift into its own

As habits pull the sleep out
Covered in the sheets that harbor rest and sunshine
As habits pull the sleep out
Covered in the sheets that harbor rest and sunshine

And as the stadium sheds out the crowd into the streets
And out of their throats pours, tongues licking down
"What will they become?"

Into its own
Into its own
Into its own

Written by:
John Baldwin Gourley

Publisher:
Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc.

Lyrics powered by Lyric Find