Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Hometown Hooray, artist - White Hinterland. Album song Phylactery Factory, in the genre Альтернатива
Date of issue: 03.03.2008
Record label: Dead Oceans
Song language: English
Hometown Hooray |
Down by the old stone church |
Where the joe-pye weed and the mallows grow |
Those petals bigger then my fist |
Watch them bob and bow when the wind does blow |
There grows a cypress tree |
And in its trunk I carved you name |
And right beside it I carved mine |
They’ll give you the hometown hooray |
When you come home, baby |
Bronze your combat boots |
And set your bones in clay |
Write down every word you ever had to say |
No one wants to believe you died in vain |
The first spring that you were gone |
The women who lived on the flat roof-tops |
Had sherds sewn with quickly germinating seeds of greens |
In all of their Sapphic celebrations |
They held fires and dances, chanted your name |
Tied yellow ribbons round the trunks of trees in town |
They’ll give you the hometown hooray |
When you come home, baby |
Bronze your combat boots |
And set your bones in clay |
Write down every word you ever had to say |
With Homeric undertones and half the length |
But the skies held a collusion of their own |
And on the sunniest day there ever was |
You died at the tusk of a bayonet |
And Aphrodite found your body |
Sprinkled nectar in your wounds |
And you blood dripped red anemones |
That shimmered just like precious stones |
And they floated down the riverbank |
To the tributary that now shares your name |
And the rapids from then on ran red |
They run red to this day |
They’ll give you the hometown hooray |
When you come home, baby |
Oh bronze your combat boots |
And set your bones in clay |
Write down every word you ever had to say |
With Homeric undertones and half the length |
We used to walk past the blue schoolhouse |
We wore our love like it was a crown |
And our skin was a map we knew by heart |
We never once got lost |
We never once got lost |
No one wants to believe you died in vain |
The Sapphic women who love you so |
Still cry every spring when the fennel goes |
And the wheat and the barley and the hardy rye |
Wither and go to seed |
I walk down to the old stone church |
Where the joe-pye weed and the mallows grow |
Those petals droop now heavy with rain |
Watch them bob and bow when the wind does blow |
There, my favorite cypress tree |
As tall as the steeples I can see |
They’ve tied a yellow-ribbon 'round its trunk |
That covers your name where I carved it twice |
I rip that ribbon off the tree |
Burn it down by the river that now shares your name |
Place the ash where the water ravenously licks the riverbank |
We used to walk past the blue schoolhouse |
We wore our love like it was a crown |
And our skin was a map I knew by heart |
We never once got lost |
We never once got lost |
No one wants to believe you died in vain |