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letra de thistles - jack cookson (folk)

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well the morning is sore, the morning is exposed
in the morning i awake with my pillow case stained red
next time i’ll just put myself in the washing machine
for a contorted baptism at 30, maybe 40 degrees

‘cause after all i’m a citizen of europe’s congestion capital
but i can weave between those cars on my diamond back sorrento
when i left plymouth i watched those hills slowly turn to plains
as i crawled up the south west face of this island i call malaise

i’ve been chewed up and spat out by a behemoth called bristol
landed in a thicket somewhere far away
and i’m still picking out thistles
oh, i am still picking out thistles

by the afternoon i’m feeling some sunny spells of calm
for i have walked my black dog into a fitful stirring slumber
so we can go walk in that field we always thought would be nice to go walk in when we saw it from the window of a first great western train

you’ve been chewed up and spat out by a behemoth called bristol
next to me in a thicket somewhere far away
and you’re still picking out thistles
oh, i am still picking out thistles too

so if nothing in this life moves us quite so much
as music and misery
lets marry the two by moonlight
and self-indulgently sing ourselves to sleep

we’ve been chewed up and spat out by a behemoth called bristol
we landed in a thicket somewhere far away
and we’re still picking out thistles

- jack cookson folk

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