Tain, Pts1 - 5 Lyrics - Tain - Decemberists

[PART I] 

[crone:] here upon this pillow 

Made of reed and willow 

You're a fickle little twister 

Are you sweet on your sister? 

Your fallow won't leave you alone. 

And granted for their pleasure 

Possesions laid to measure 

She's a salty little pisser 

With your cock in her kisser 

But now she's a will of her own. 

[PART II] 

[husband:] damn your ankles and eyes wide 

From you fingernails to your ponytails too. 

King of the insects and the m-5 

Over charlemagne in a motorcade too. 

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And baby needs a new prize 

Baby needs a new and shiny prize. 

[captain:] in this place called heavenly 

You were born here. 

This place called heavenly 

You were born here. 

You were born here. 

[husband:] and now all the marchers descend from high 

I will dedicate all of my awakenings to this. 

And damn all the angles that opress my sight 

I will bleed your heart through a samovar soon. 

[captain:] in this place called heavenly 

You were born here. 

This place called heavenly 

You were born here. 

You were born here. 

[PART III] 

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[soldier:] they settled dust in your hair 

To watch you shake and shout it out. 

With our armaments bared 

We shed our bags and travel alls. 

From the lee of the wall 

He comes in the chang and the chariot 

And all his eunuchs in thrall 

Can scarce lift his line and lariat. 

Here com loose his hounds 

To blow me down. 

[chorus of waifs:] blow me down. 

[soldier:] on this stretch of ground 

I'll lay me down. 

[chorus of waifs:] lay me down. 

[soldier:] to sleep. 

[chaplain:] and now stricken with pangs 

That tear at our backs like thistle down 

The mirror's soft silver tain 

Reflects our last and birthing hour 

[soldier:] here com loose his hounds 

To blow me down. 

[chorus of waifs:] blow me down. 

[soldier:] on this stretch of ground 

I'll lay me down. 

[chorus of waifs:] lay me down. 

[soldier:] to sleep. 

[PART IV] 

[evening] 

[widow:] o the wind is blowing, it hurts your skin 

As you climb up hillside, forest and fen. 

Your arms full of lullabies, orchids and wine 

Your memories wrapped within paper and twine. 

The room that you lie in is dusty and hard 

Sleeping soft babies on piles of yards 

Of gingham, taffeta, cotton and silk 

Your dry hungry mouths cry for your mother's milk. 

When the dawn commes to greet you, you'll rise with clothes on 

And advance with the others, singing old songs 

Of cattle and maidens and withered old queens. 

Let the music carry you on. 

The room that you lie in is dusty and hard 

Sleeping soft babies on piles of yards 

Of gingham, taffeta, cotton and silk 

Your dry hungry mouths cry for your mother's milk. 

[PART V] 

[woman:] darling dear what have you done? 

Your clothes are town, your make-up runs. 

[daughter:] I ran through brambles, blooming thistle 

I washed my face in the river when you whistled me on. 

[woman:] darling dear, what hav eyou done? 

Your hands and face are smeared with blood. 

[daughter:] the chaplain came and called me out 

To beat and to butcher his mother's sow 

[woman:] but darling dear, they found him dead 

This morning on the riverbed. 

But hush now darling, don't you cry. 

Your reward's in the sweet by-and -by. 

Hush now baby, don't you cry. 

Your reward's in the sweet by-and-by. 

[crone:] and now we've seen your powers 

Softly stretch the hours 

You're a fickle little twister 

Are you sweet on your sister? 

As now you go wandering home.