Towing the line
I watched the host drink all the wine
And now she rambles through the who's and who have not's
The old man is a painter of tired seascapes
Tired of adventure
Oh, my mind wanders
Picking at the table to cure the rot
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
Crawling 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
Ben Howard - Towing The Line Lyrics
Ben Howard - Towing The Line Lyrics
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Towing the line
I watched the host drink all the wine
And now she rambles through the who's and who have not's
The old man is a painter of tired seascapes
Tired of adventure
Oh, my mind wanders
Picking at the table to cure the rot
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
Crawling 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
I watched the host drink all the wine
And now she rambles through the who's and who have not's
The old man is a painter of tired seascapes
Tired of adventure
Oh, my mind wanders
Picking at the table to cure the rot
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
Crawling 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
Writer: Benjamin John Howard, Mickey Smith
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.