Broken pieces, I don't have to keep them
To sweep them off in circles, display them round in my living room.
To love them is to know how it feels to be lost and to be left
A barnacle shell and a half used film,
Marrow of bone and a picture I drew,
That I gave to no-one, there was no-one I knew to give it to.
The dark arts of preservation,
The mottled collection of displacement.
To love them is to know how it feels to be lost and to be left.
You know, you remind me of a boy I once knew?
Days comes and it all feels so different, it's like dust in my hair.
Day comes and I walk outside and back, so dissatisfied.
Day comes, and it's all so clear to me - it's so dear to me.
When day comes - that I will be standing here mending all of it.
The dark arts of preservation
The mottled collection of displacement
To love them is to know how it feels to be lost and to be left
You know, you remind me of a boy I once knew.
French For Rabbits - The Dark Arts Lyrics
French For Rabbits - The Dark Arts Lyrics
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English
Broken pieces, I don't have to keep them
To sweep them off in circles, display them round in my living room.
To love them is to know how it feels to be lost and to be left
A barnacle shell and a half used film,
Marrow of bone and a picture I drew,
That I gave to no-one, there was no-one I knew to give it to.
The dark arts of preservation,
The mottled collection of displacement.
To love them is to know how it feels to be lost and to be left.
You know, you remind me of a boy I once knew?
Days comes and it all feels so different, it's like dust in my hair.
Day comes and I walk outside and back, so dissatisfied.
Day comes, and it's all so clear to me - it's so dear to me.
When day comes - that I will be standing here mending all of it.
The dark arts of preservation
The mottled collection of displacement
To love them is to know how it feels to be lost and to be left
You know, you remind me of a boy I once knew.
To sweep them off in circles, display them round in my living room.
To love them is to know how it feels to be lost and to be left
A barnacle shell and a half used film,
Marrow of bone and a picture I drew,
That I gave to no-one, there was no-one I knew to give it to.
The dark arts of preservation,
The mottled collection of displacement.
To love them is to know how it feels to be lost and to be left.
You know, you remind me of a boy I once knew?
Days comes and it all feels so different, it's like dust in my hair.
Day comes and I walk outside and back, so dissatisfied.
Day comes, and it's all so clear to me - it's so dear to me.
When day comes - that I will be standing here mending all of it.
The dark arts of preservation
The mottled collection of displacement
To love them is to know how it feels to be lost and to be left
You know, you remind me of a boy I once knew.
Writer: Ben Wood, Brooke Singer, Hikurangi Schaverien-Kaa, John Fitzgerald, Penelope Esplin
Copyright: Lyrics © CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC
Copyright: Lyrics © CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC
Performed By: French For Rabbits
Language: English
Length: 3:36
Written by: Ben Wood, Brooke Singer, Hikurangi Schaverien-Kaa, John Fitzgerald, Penelope Esplin