Hello Darkness, Hello Gentle Moon
π΅ 1184 characters
β±οΈ 5:49 duration
π ID: 7765345
π Lyrics
On a porch swing sits
The old man Tait
In the silence no rocking breaks the still
Only the rough sulfuric crush
Of a matchstick squeezed between its two lustrous cardboard pages
It was plucked from a dishful on any given bluegrass tuesday night
To light a smoke in the hazy poolhall
Of the local Fine Establishment
Folks are lively from music and bourbon whiskey
Strings and ringing voices drown out serious conversation
Those nights all hands are clean
Bows are tied and shoes are shined
Spanking in the cheery yellow light
It's Fall, in my city, it's no man's land
I'm bored, let's move on
But on the porch swing
Beneath the humming electric lantern flickers
Alone with a heady cherry wood pipe
A gritty hand waves at the fading twilight
Saying, hello darkness
Hello gentle moon
The day is full of bushels and crates and stacks
Bumpy rides past cornfields, pastures
The harvest slowly fills the coffers
Fills the store house up to the rafters
Where fallen apples beard themselves with rusty crispen leaves
Only to be ravaged by some local ants
Tending to their own lilliputian farm
Because no matter what the scale
Sunless times are coming
(Bringing relief from the light of day)
The old man Tait
In the silence no rocking breaks the still
Only the rough sulfuric crush
Of a matchstick squeezed between its two lustrous cardboard pages
It was plucked from a dishful on any given bluegrass tuesday night
To light a smoke in the hazy poolhall
Of the local Fine Establishment
Folks are lively from music and bourbon whiskey
Strings and ringing voices drown out serious conversation
Those nights all hands are clean
Bows are tied and shoes are shined
Spanking in the cheery yellow light
It's Fall, in my city, it's no man's land
I'm bored, let's move on
But on the porch swing
Beneath the humming electric lantern flickers
Alone with a heady cherry wood pipe
A gritty hand waves at the fading twilight
Saying, hello darkness
Hello gentle moon
The day is full of bushels and crates and stacks
Bumpy rides past cornfields, pastures
The harvest slowly fills the coffers
Fills the store house up to the rafters
Where fallen apples beard themselves with rusty crispen leaves
Only to be ravaged by some local ants
Tending to their own lilliputian farm
Because no matter what the scale
Sunless times are coming
(Bringing relief from the light of day)
β±οΈ Synced Lyrics
[00:38.25] On a porch swing sits
[00:40.19] The old man Tait
[00:42.13] In the silence no rocking breaks the still
[00:46.66] Only the rough sulfuric crush
[00:49.45] Of a matchstick squeezed between its two lustrous cardboard pages
[00:55.49] It was plucked from a dishful on any given bluegrass tuesday night
[01:01.42] To light a smoke in the hazy poolhall
[01:04.86] Of the local Fine Establishment
[01:08.17] Folks are lively from music and bourbon whiskey
[01:12.85] Strings and ringing voices drown out serious conversation
[01:18.26] Those nights all hands are clean
[01:21.11] Bows are tied and shoes are shined
[01:24.58] Spanking in the cheery yellow light
[02:16.14] It's Fall, in my city, it's no man's land
[02:32.11] I'm bored, let's move on
[03:00.57] But on the porch swing
[03:02.65] Beneath the humming electric lantern flickers
[03:06.52] Alone with a heady cherry wood pipe
[03:09.71] A gritty hand waves at the fading twilight
[03:13.65] Saying, hello darkness
[03:16.81] Hello gentle moon
[03:18.48] The day is full of bushels and crates and stacks
[03:22.31] Bumpy rides past cornfields, pastures
[03:27.87] The harvest slowly fills the coffers
[03:30.98] Fills the store house up to the rafters
[03:33.90] Where fallen apples beard themselves with rusty crispen leaves
[03:39.58] Only to be ravaged by some local ants
[03:42.60] Tending to their own lilliputian farm
[03:47.13] Because no matter what the scale
[03:48.92] Sunless times are coming
[03:53.62] (Bringing relief from the light of day)
[03:57.59]
[00:40.19] The old man Tait
[00:42.13] In the silence no rocking breaks the still
[00:46.66] Only the rough sulfuric crush
[00:49.45] Of a matchstick squeezed between its two lustrous cardboard pages
[00:55.49] It was plucked from a dishful on any given bluegrass tuesday night
[01:01.42] To light a smoke in the hazy poolhall
[01:04.86] Of the local Fine Establishment
[01:08.17] Folks are lively from music and bourbon whiskey
[01:12.85] Strings and ringing voices drown out serious conversation
[01:18.26] Those nights all hands are clean
[01:21.11] Bows are tied and shoes are shined
[01:24.58] Spanking in the cheery yellow light
[02:16.14] It's Fall, in my city, it's no man's land
[02:32.11] I'm bored, let's move on
[03:00.57] But on the porch swing
[03:02.65] Beneath the humming electric lantern flickers
[03:06.52] Alone with a heady cherry wood pipe
[03:09.71] A gritty hand waves at the fading twilight
[03:13.65] Saying, hello darkness
[03:16.81] Hello gentle moon
[03:18.48] The day is full of bushels and crates and stacks
[03:22.31] Bumpy rides past cornfields, pastures
[03:27.87] The harvest slowly fills the coffers
[03:30.98] Fills the store house up to the rafters
[03:33.90] Where fallen apples beard themselves with rusty crispen leaves
[03:39.58] Only to be ravaged by some local ants
[03:42.60] Tending to their own lilliputian farm
[03:47.13] Because no matter what the scale
[03:48.92] Sunless times are coming
[03:53.62] (Bringing relief from the light of day)
[03:57.59]