Cooksonia
I've given the better part of my days
To the consideration of small things
Gingerly went unpicking the seams
Of a long dried-up stream (ya-ho, ya-ho, ya-ho)
Dwelling at length inside the mad waltz
Of spores on a gust of the mind's hair
And when I dream I really go
To that ocean of stone (ya-ho, ya-ho, ya-ho)
In the shadowed shallows our spirit wells
Move closer, move closer
On the radio I hear the blue hills
Move closer, here and there
When I was young, the better part of my days
Were spent to the nursing of my mum
I found my pleasure whenever I could
In tennis and piano (ya-ho, ya-ho, ya-ho)
And though we were half-broke
I managed to go
To study at the University of Melbourne
Melbourne
In the shadowed shallows our spirit wells
Move closer, move closer
On the radio I hear the blue hills
Move closer, here and there
A week at sea, the better part of my days
Holed up in the cabin lost in boundless study
I'm on my way to the UK
With Ethel McLennan (ya-ho, ya-ho, ya-ho)
Unfortunately the fungal cultures we brought with us
Have started to degrade
There are no birds
No bushes or trees
No beasts nor people
Only this single stem
To the consideration of small things
Gingerly went unpicking the seams
Of a long dried-up stream (ya-ho, ya-ho, ya-ho)
Dwelling at length inside the mad waltz
Of spores on a gust of the mind's hair
And when I dream I really go
To that ocean of stone (ya-ho, ya-ho, ya-ho)
In the shadowed shallows our spirit wells
Move closer, move closer
On the radio I hear the blue hills
Move closer, here and there
When I was young, the better part of my days
Were spent to the nursing of my mum
I found my pleasure whenever I could
In tennis and piano (ya-ho, ya-ho, ya-ho)
And though we were half-broke
I managed to go
To study at the University of Melbourne
Melbourne
In the shadowed shallows our spirit wells
Move closer, move closer
On the radio I hear the blue hills
Move closer, here and there
A week at sea, the better part of my days
Holed up in the cabin lost in boundless study
I'm on my way to the UK
With Ethel McLennan (ya-ho, ya-ho, ya-ho)
Unfortunately the fungal cultures we brought with us
Have started to degrade
There are no birds
No bushes or trees
No beasts nor people
Only this single stem
Credits
Writer(s): Richard Michael Dawson, Janne Westerlund, Mika Ratto, Jussi Lehtisalo, Pekka Jaaskelainen, Tomi Leppanen, Julius Jaaskelainen
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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