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Elliott Brood



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Elliott Brood

Lindsay

Can I sleep for a while
18-wheelers shake the walls
And the mortar's coming out
City says they'll tear down

We grew up right here
Door frames marked with eighteen years
Our lives in crooked frames
And kitchen table coffee stains

Go to sleep with a smile
Curled up winter's fireside
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Flashlights on frozen pipes
And winter nights still frozen tight

And this old house
Packed up now and emptied out
Keep the things we spoke about
And let that pistol sort the rest of it out
Let it sort the rest of it out

Ooh...