The Hundred In The Hands Pigeons Lyrics
Pigeons by The Hundred In The Hands
Saturday comes, Sunday comes, we go
Saturday comes, Sunday comes, we go
Saturday comes, Sunday comes, we go
Saturday comes, Sunday comes, we go
Kicking on the edge of town
Counting all the pigeons down
Walking in the steps of men
I have the feeling they're not breathing
She's shaking like a rattle
Sneaking out, the hour's still
Waiting for the room to fall in
Watching the time unwind
Saturday, Saturday
Saturday comes, Sunday comes, we go
Saturday, Saturday
We go!
Kicking on the edge of town
Counting all the pigeons down
Walking in the steps of men
I have the feeling they're not bleeding
Laughing like a right-loon
Slavering at the silvery moon
Waiting for the room to fall in
Waiting for him to come
Saturday, Saturday
Saturday comes, Sunday comes
We go
Saturday, Saturday
We go
She is still not still is not still
He is here and not here at all
Cold grey morning, waking in his room she goes
Crawling out the window
Climbing up the crooked stairs
Above the ceiling leaning tracing pigeons
Turning circles in the morning sky
I don't know why, you don't just fly away
Fly away, fly away
Saturday comes, Sunday comes, we go
Saturday comes, Sunday comes, we go
Saturday comes, Sunday comes, we go
(I don't know why, you don't just fly away
Away, away, away)
Saturday comes, Sunday comes, we go
(I don't know why, you don't just fly away
Away, away, away)
We go
Saturday comes, Sunday comes, we go
Saturday comes, Sunday comes, we go
Saturday comes, Sunday comes, we go
Kicking on the edge of town
Counting all the pigeons down
Walking in the steps of men
I have the feeling they're not breathing
She's shaking like a rattle
Sneaking out, the hour's still
Waiting for the room to fall in
Watching the time unwind
Saturday, Saturday
Saturday comes, Sunday comes, we go
Saturday, Saturday
We go!
Kicking on the edge of town
Counting all the pigeons down
Walking in the steps of men
I have the feeling they're not bleeding
Laughing like a right-loon
Slavering at the silvery moon
Waiting for the room to fall in
Waiting for him to come
Saturday, Saturday
Saturday comes, Sunday comes
We go
Saturday, Saturday
We go
She is still not still is not still
He is here and not here at all
Cold grey morning, waking in his room she goes
Crawling out the window
Climbing up the crooked stairs
Above the ceiling leaning tracing pigeons
Turning circles in the morning sky
I don't know why, you don't just fly away
Fly away, fly away
Saturday comes, Sunday comes, we go
Saturday comes, Sunday comes, we go
Saturday comes, Sunday comes, we go
(I don't know why, you don't just fly away
Away, away, away)
Saturday comes, Sunday comes, we go
(I don't know why, you don't just fly away
Away, away, away)
We go