Текст песни Old Friend - Future Islands
I
whisper
the
tongue
like
an
old
friend
I
cherish
my
time
here
alone
I
wait
in
the
eyes
of
the
passing
nights
To
help
me
laugh
brushfires
again
By
the
swallows
sleeve
I′m
a
new
hand
Cutting
out
the
shapes
that
burn
me
I
can
touch
the
mouths
of
these
child
gods
And
these
true
minds
that
hurt
man
And
the
will
will
go
up
To
the
crashing
sails
And
the
crushing
wails
Of
my
old
pan
This
wind
screams
while
I'm
asleep
And
dreams
that
these
white
eyes
Will
smile
again
And
the
will
will
go
up
To
the
crashing
sails
And
the
crushing
wails
Of
my
old
pan
This
wind
screams
while
I′m
asleep
And
dreams
that
these
white
eyes
Will
smile
again
I
take
to
the
road
like
an
old
man
I
cherish
my
time
here
alone
I
process
the
lines
of
the
passing
lights
Losing
myself,
I
change
my
plans
By
the
western
walls
I'm
a
cursed
hand
By
the
eastern
seas
I'm
hardly
wrong
I
can
swing
myself
down
from
these
trees
When
I
crave
a
glimpse
of
weary
sands
I
whisper
the
tongue
like
an
old
friend
I
cherish
my
time
here
alone
I
swing
myself
down
from
these
trees
To
help
me
laugh
brushfires
again
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