Lyrics Stables and Chairs - Portugal. The Man

Stables and Chairs

I met a face with ring rounded pocket eyes
That shaped folded banks inside
As he shivered out thoughts
They went: «golden and pale, wind whispers, breathe New Orleans»
Through basements and racetracks met hollowed out from stretching mouths
All these thoughts were rolled onto needles
That spilled from heads, tumble like apples
Fell into the sky, that’s where they hide
Where rubies turned diamonds
Like textures, like sunshine
Behind hands arms lift into its own
Behind hands arms lift into its own
As the stadium sheds out the crowd into the streets
And out of their throats pours, tongues licking down
«What will we become?»
Rhythms fed gently in vacuums perspired
Will stay where it’s warm
Where it’s safe from the down beating drums
They went: «golden and pale, wind whispers, breathe New Orleans»
Behind hands arms lift into its own
Behind hands arms lift into its own
As the stadium sheds out the crowd into the streets
And out of their throats pours, tongues licking down
«What will we become?»
As habits pull the sleep out
Covered in the sheets that harbor rest and sunshine
As habits pull the sleep out
Covered in the sheets that harbor rest and sunshine
As the stadium sheds out the crowd into the streets
And out of their throats pours, tongues licking down
«What will we become?»
Into its own
Into its own
Into its own