| Starlings over Brighton pier
|
| What do they know, what do they hear?
|
| They’d block out the sun
|
| If there was one
|
| Like iron filings upon the page
|
| Gathered around leaders
|
| I see faces that melt and flow
|
| Old man’s eye-caves
|
| Starlings over Brighton pier
|
| Who do they follow?
|
| Greater than the sun
|
| Of each and every one
|
| Shifting weight from heel to toe
|
| Ducking and diving
|
| There is a bigger thing going on
|
| They play their part in
|
| They take me away from this place
|
| In a rush and spinning grace
|
| They take me away from this place
|
| From the buzzing of half remembered fails
|
| Starlings over Brighton pier
|
| What do they know, what do they hear?
|
| They’d block out the sun
|
| If there was one
|
| They take me away from this place
|
| In a rush and spinning grace
|
| They take me away from this place
|
| From the buzzing of half remembered fails
|
| Yeah the buzzing of half remembered fails
|
| From the sting of paper cut trails
|
| Yeah the sting of paper cut trails |