Lyrics
Here is the sound that photographs make
When I see them
When I hear them
I see regions of sharp precision
Over abundance
Over indulgence
Tied together with rope and twine
Stuck together with paste and glue
Two old planks of knotty pine
A couple of nails that poke right through.
Here is the sound that photographs make
When I see them
When I hear them
I see regions of sharp precision
Over abundance
Over indulgence
Tied together with rope and twine
Stuck together with paste and glue
Two old planks of knotty pine
A couple of nails that poke right through.
When I see them
When I hear them
I see regions of sharp precision
Over abundance
Over indulgence
Tied together with rope and twine
Stuck together with paste and glue
Two old planks of knotty pine
A couple of nails that poke right through.
Here is the sound that photographs make
When I see them
When I hear them
I see regions of sharp precision
Over abundance
Over indulgence
Tied together with rope and twine
Stuck together with paste and glue
Two old planks of knotty pine
A couple of nails that poke right through.