Our Swords

Our Swords - Band of Horses

Out on the wall sounds of banging

Is constant coming from your head

And desperate the calls came

And ringing from those wanna wring your neck

Wring your neck

Open your mouth sounds of

Breathing found it spilling from your face

Best to be dim to the humble

Of traffic stepping on your name

Count on us all follow our own swords tonight

And chilling walk home down the portions roads

There leading straight to your place

And look like the tin can with swallows

The kitchen plugging up your space

Count on us all stepping on our own toes tonight

Count on us all stepping on our own toes

Count on us all falling on our own swords tonight