Sifting
posted on:2009 years
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Alela Diane - The Alder Trees

LRC by lzh ,from jiangxi pingxiang

@ @

I can hear the elders whispering in words so sweet and low

The alder trees were listening to songs been sung before

My friend and I collecting skeletons of leaves

Making tiny piles oh and sifting through the weeds

Wind blows the tiny green

Tiny green

Wind blows the tiny green

Helicopter seeds

Wind blows the tiny green

Tiny green

Wind blows the tiny green

Helicopter seeds

Oh wandering in days unfolding with

hats fashioned of mud and snakeskin

Oh wandering in days unfolding with

hats fashioned of mud and snakeskin

Of mud and snake-skin

As I think about the ladies who weren't allowed to sing

Sewing all their pretty rows of thread instead of singing

And what about the black braided sisters of Mariee

We sat upon their grinding rock as children used to be

Beneath the knotted pine

Knotted pine

Beneath the knotted pine

At the garden's edge

Beneath the knotted pine

Knotted pine

Beneath the knotted pine

At the garden's edge

Oh laughing little girls clapping

Ghosts weaving our hair to baskets

And ghosts weaving our hair to baskets

Oh laughing little girls clapping

And ghosts weaving our hair to baskets

Our hair to baskets

I can hear the elders whispering in words so sweet and low

The alder trees were listening to songs been sung before

My friend and I collecting skeletons of leaves

Making tiny piles oh and sifting through the weeds

Making tiny piles oh and sifting through the weeds

Alela Diane - The Alder Trees

LRC by lzh ,from jiangxi pingxiang

@ @

I can hear the elders whispering in words so sweet and low

The alder trees were listening to songs been sung before

My friend and I collecting skeletons of leaves

Making tiny piles oh and sifting through the weeds

Wind blows the tiny green

Tiny green

Wind blows the tiny green

Helicopter seeds

Wind blows the tiny green

Tiny green

Wind blows the tiny green

Helicopter seeds

Oh wandering in days unfolding with

hats fashioned of mud and snakeskin

Oh wandering in days unfolding with

hats fashioned of mud and snakeskin

Of mud and snake-skin

As I think about the ladies who weren't allowed to sing

Sewing all their pretty rows of thread instead of singing

And what about the black braided sisters of Mariee

We sat upon their grinding rock as children used to be

Beneath the knotted pine

Knotted pine

Beneath the knotted pine

At the garden's edge

Beneath the knotted pine

Knotted pine

Beneath the knotted pine

At the garden's edge

Oh laughing little girls clapping

Ghosts weaving our hair to baskets

And ghosts weaving our hair to baskets

Oh laughing little girls clapping

And ghosts weaving our hair to baskets

Our hair to baskets

I can hear the elders whispering in words so sweet and low

The alder trees were listening to songs been sung before

My friend and I collecting skeletons of leaves

Making tiny piles oh and sifting through the weeds

Making tiny piles oh and sifting through the weeds

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