Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Birds Of Flims, artist - Sun Kil Moon. Album song Universal Themes, in the genre Инди
Date of issue: 31.05.2015
Record label: Caldo Verde, Rough Trade
Song language: English
Birds Of Flims |
Damn if I didn’t |
just go walking and find some horses |
A man-made lake and some trolls |
Came back to my room all covered in sweat |
Here at the Swiss Waldhaus Hotel |
Filled out an application for a work visa |
For Japan and Australia |
It’s been a few weeks since I’ve left home |
And I feel out of place |
And out of my element |
I work from 7 at night |
Until 5 AM when the AD says «Wrap» |
And a runner named Fabio flashlights me back to my hotel before the sun comes up |
Then I get in my bed and talk with my girl on the phone to the birds chirping |
How the hell did I end up playing myself in an Italian film |
Set in a ski town in Switzerland? |
Damn if I didn’t just go walking the Alps all alone on my night off |
I felt like Jimmy Page walking the mountains out behind Aleister Crowley’s house |
But it was too dark, and it got so cold |
That I turned back around |
Came back to my room, read Graham Nash’s Wild Tales |
Til I fell asleep to the sound |
The sound of the birds |
The birds of |
Flims |
Yeah I’ve asked around |
But nobody knows the names of 'em |
Of the birds |
The birds of Flims |
Yeah I’ve asked around |
But nobody knows the names of 'em |
Damn if I didn’t just go walking down the road |
When a girl named Veronica stopped me |
She said she was from Milan and that she recognized me from the film |
And that today was her birthday |
We talked a little bit |
But there was barrier |
And she went one way and I went the other |
And I walked along the dandelions and down to market |
Where I bought her some flowers |
On the way back to my hotel |
I left them in the lobby of hers, with a note |
«Veronica, happy birthday — Mark» |
And when I saw her again on the set |
She said «Grazie», and I could tell that the gesture |
Had touched her heart |
Damn if I didn’t go to dinner last night with Paul |
But his throat was sore |
And I could see that he was feeling ill |
He spends more time on the set than I do |
And it’s cold out there |
And the last two days, he was playing Hitler |
I could see he was grappling with that |
And I felt bad, and I gave him some words of support |
And we talked about John Hughes movies, |
home ownership |
And the cost of living in San Francisco and New York |
And damn if I didn’t go out later with a set dresser or something like that |
Named Cipriana |
We talked for four hours at a bar down the street |
And the music was terrible |
But yeah, I liked her, kinda |
She’d been with someone for four or five years |
And I kinda figured that anyhow, and told her «Well, so have I» |
And that made life easier for both of us |
And I walked her drunk ass back to her room |
And like a gentleman, I didn’t try |
And I went to my room |
I looked down at the water fountain |
From my balcony I felt |
The surrealness of my surroundings |
I got in my bed |
Looked up at the baby blue ceilings above |
And thought of my home |
And my girl |
And I ached for her love |
Damn when it all ended |
If I didn’t have them fly me out |
To New Orleans |
Where I saw kitty cats sleeping on porches |
And drank real iced tea for the first time in six to eight weeks |
And it was nice not to have to walk down that awkward path again |
And not to have to yell or to holler |
About eating pasta pomodoro for the 38th time in a month |
Or that the price of knit hats was 60 Swiss fuckin' francs |
Damn if I didn’t go walking the next afternoon |
Down Oretha Castle Haley |
Where I ate a catfish lunch at Cafe Reconcile |
With a side of macaroni and cheese |
And cornbread and collard greens |
Saw it advertised on channel 99 |
The public access channel |
And I walked across the street to a gym |
And I watched two fighters spar |
And I talked to them during their break |
While they sipped on their Snapple |
And I thought, what is life if not a fight? |
Or a test of will and grace |
Some would match it by throwing bombs like Mike Tyson |
But some, like Pernell, are slippery and win cleverly |
Some are fearless like Arturo Gatti |
But like Henry Akinwande |
Some of them buckle and stall |
When the going gets tough, with much due respect |
Some of them break down and cry |
Like Oliver «The Atomic Bomb» McCall |
Life’s a chess game for all of us |
Hit, don’t be hit, jabbing and hooking and feigning and bobbing and weaving |
And the fighters got back in the ring |
I thought of my own fight in life |
And it was time to be leaving |
And damn if I didn’t go to the airport |
And fly up to Cleveland, Ohio |
I had dinner at Sylvester’s in North Canton with my girlfriend and her friends |
And for the first time in a while |
I was surrounded by genuine smiles ( |
beautiful smiles |
There at the table with all of them, I felt content |
And grounded and rooted again |
Then was dropped off to face the hardships |
Of a single mom who happens to be one of my closest and dearest friends |
Fell asleep in her spare room to the sound of crop dusters |
And cars on the highway |
Zooming back to my roots where unconditional love |
Rules over everything |
And I could no longer hear the birds of Flims |