Текст песни Passing Afternoon (Live) - Iron & Wine
                                                There 
                                                are 
                                                times 
                                                    I 
                                                walk 
                                                from 
                                                you
 
                                    
                                
                                                Like 
                                                some 
                                                passing 
                                                afternoon
 
                                    
                                
                                                Summer 
                                                warmed 
                                                the 
                                                open 
                                                window 
                                                of 
                                                her 
                                                honeymoon
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                she 
                                                chose 
                                                    a 
                                                yard 
                                                to 
                                                burn
 
                                    
                                
                                                But 
                                                the 
                                                ground 
                                                remembers 
                                                her
 
                                    
                                
                                                Wooden 
                                                spoons, 
                                                her 
                                                children 
                                                stir 
                                                her 
                                                Bougainvillea 
                                                blooms
 
                                    
                                
                                                There 
                                                are 
                                                things 
                                                that 
                                                drift 
                                                away
 
                                    
                                
                                                Like 
                                                our 
                                                endless 
                                                numbered 
                                                days
 
                                    
                                
                                                Autumn 
                                                blew 
                                                the 
                                                quilt 
                                                right 
                                                off 
                                                the 
                                                perfect 
                                                bed 
                                                she 
                                                made
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                she's 
                                                chosen 
                                                to 
                                                believe
 
                                    
                                
                                                In 
                                                the 
                                                hymns 
                                                her 
                                                mother 
                                                sings
 
                                    
                                
                                                Sunday 
                                                pulls 
                                                its 
                                                children 
                                                from 
                                                their 
                                                piles 
                                                of 
                                                fallen 
                                                leaves
 
                                    
                                
                                                There 
                                                are 
                                                sailing 
                                                ships 
                                                that 
                                                pass
 
                                    
                                
                                                All 
                                                our 
                                                bodies 
                                                in 
                                                the 
                                                grass
 
                                    
                                
                                                Springtime 
                                                calls 
                                                her 
                                                children 
                                                'til 
                                                she 
                                                lets 
                                                them 
                                                go 
                                                at 
                                                last
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                she's 
                                                chosen 
                                                where 
                                                to 
                                                be
 
                                    
                                
                                                Though 
                                                she's 
                                                lost 
                                                her 
                                                wedding 
                                                ring
 
                                    
                                
                                                Somewhere 
                                                near 
                                                her 
                                                misplaced 
                                                jar 
                                                of 
                                                Bougainvillea 
                                                seeds
 
                                    
                                
                                                There 
                                                are 
                                                things 
                                                we 
                                                can't 
                                                recall
 
                                    
                                
                                                Blind 
                                                as 
                                                night 
                                                that 
                                                finds 
                                                us 
                                                all
 
                                    
                                
                                                Winter 
                                                tucks 
                                                her 
                                                children 
                                                in, 
                                                her 
                                                fragile 
                                                china 
                                                dolls
 
                                    
                                
                                                But 
                                                my 
                                                hands 
                                                remember 
                                                hers
 
                                    
                                
                                                Rolling 
                                                'round 
                                                the 
                                                shaded 
                                                ferns
 
                                    
                                
                                                Naked 
                                                arms, 
                                                her 
                                                secrets 
                                                still 
                                                like 
                                                songs 
                                                I'd 
                                                never 
                                                learned
 
                                    
                                
                                                There 
                                                are 
                                                names 
                                                across 
                                                the 
                                                sea
 
                                    
                                
                                                Only 
                                                now 
                                                    I 
                                                do 
                                                believe
 
                                    
                                
                                                Sometimes, 
                                                with 
                                                the 
                                                windows 
                                                closed, 
                                                she'll 
                                                sit 
                                                and 
                                                think 
                                                of 
                                                me
 
                                    
                                
                                                But 
                                                she'll 
                                                mend 
                                                his 
                                                tattered 
                                                clothes
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                they'll 
                                                kiss 
                                                as 
                                                if 
                                                they 
                                                know
 
                                    
                                
                                                    A 
                                                baby 
                                                sleeps 
                                                in 
                                                all 
                                                our 
                                                bones, 
                                                so 
                                                scared 
                                                to 
                                                be 
                                                alone
 
                                    
                                
                                                Alone 
                                                (alone)
 
                                    
                                
                                                Alone 
                                                (alone)
 
                                    
                                
                                                Alone 
                                                (alone)
 
                                    
                                
                                                Alone 
                                                (alone)
 
                                    
                                
                                                Alone 
                                                (alone)
 
                                    
                                
                                                Alone 
                                                (alone)
 
                                    
                                
                                                Alone 
                                                (alone)
 
                                    
                                
                                                Alone 
                                                (alone)
 
                                    
                                
                                                Alone
 
                                    
                                
                                                Alone 
                                                (alone)
 
                                    
                                
                                                Alone
 
                                    
                                
                                                Alone 
                                                (alone)
 
                                    
                                
                                                Alone 
                                                (alone)
 
                                    
                                
                                                Alone 
                                                (alone)
 
                                    
                                
                                                Alone 
                                                (alone)
 
                                    
                                
                                                Alone 
                                                (alone)
 
                                    
                                
                                                Alone 
                                                (alone)
 
                                    
                                
                            1 The Trapeze Swinger (Live)
2 Boy with a Coin (Live)
3 Woman King (Live)
4 Thomas County Law (Live)
5 House by the Sea (Live)
6 About a Bruise (Live)
7 Sodom, South Georgia (Live)
8 Last Night (Live)
9 Monkeys Uptown (Live)
10 Wolves (Song of the Shepherd's Dog) [Live]
11 Grace for Saints and Ramblers (Live)
12 Dearest Forsaken (Live)
13 Glad Man Singing (Live)
14 On Your Wings (Live)
15 Passing Afternoon (Live)
16 Pagan Angel And A Borrowed Car
17 Naked as We Came (Live)
18 Call Your Boys (Live)
19 Muddy Hymnal (Live)
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