Another intricate, clever, dynamically palyed, passionately sung indie single by the Leeds band of Douglas Frost, Lewis Whiting, Lily Fontaine and Nicholas Eden, here about about life’s unstoppability no matter how hard you struggle against it. To explore more by English Teacher, including their last EP Polyawkward, and forthcoming album next year, see also the other embedded links below.
Mostly it feels like a waste
So much laughter un-canned
I'd forgotten the taste
Don't make me go back
All the plans we tiptoed around
In quiet hours, daffodil buds
There is a reason
The first nine months doesn't count
Nearly
(Presque, wait no)
Daffodils
Nearly
(Presque, wait no)
Daffodils
Sometimes it tears like a freight train
Through a christening
Displacing the new growth
And making everything ugly
Sometimes I want to make a home on it
To look between the wheels I'm scared of being under
I've started whistling in the mornings
I like to hear the birds sing
Nearly
(Presque, wait no)
Daffodils
Nearly
(Presque, wait no)
Daffodils
Last night I dreamt that we lasted all the way 'til spring
But now the fields are full of red and blue with nothing in between
You can lead water to the daffodils
Mostly it feels like a waste
So much laughter un-canned
I'd forgotten the taste
Don't make me—
Nearly
(Presque, wait no)
Daffodils
Nearly
(Presque, wait no)
Daffodils
Last night I dreamt that we lasted all the way 'til spring
But now the fields are full of red and blue with nothing in between
You can lead water to the daffodils
But you can't make them drink
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