Ben Howard Towing The Line

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Towing the line I watched the host drink all the wine
And now she rambles through the who've and who have nots
The old man is a painter of tired seascapes, tired of adventure
So my mind wanders picking at the table to cure the wrong
Like a bird in a world with no trees you were hung up there in your disbelief
I know I'm a hard rock to drag around.

Love is in the early mornings
In the shadows under the trees
Not in the cuckolded ashes
Floating down from the rookery.

Down here I crow for you
You crow for me
Down here I crow for you
You crow for me.

Towing the line I watched the host drink all the wine
And now I'm purring for a drop of anything
Throwing stones at your window you turn to me as if it's simple
Why can't you be like the blackbird and sing
I said I'm the westerlies in ireland so decadent and violent
Can't you see I'm a forager clawing at the bedrock.

Love is in the early mornings
In the shadows under the trees
Not in the cuckolded ashes
Floating down from the rookery.

Down here I crow for you
You crow for me
Down here I crow for you
You crow for me.