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James Vincent McMorrow - Post Tropical

Rhythm comes
Tepid then cold
Crawling like snakes to a fold
Chase it back
Back to the ground
Beating our fists to the sound

No one can look
How can anyone?
Move on, now
Travel on
Terrible old love giving it all away
Who will run, and who will save?

On the hill
Gathering men
There to divide through whats left
All they sell
Gutted then cleaned
Throwing what's left in the street

No one can look
How can anyone?
Move on, now
Travel on
Terrible old love giving it all away
Who will run, and who will save?
First to leave, last who gave
Who will run, and who will save?

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