The Birds of St. Marks lyrics by Jackson Browne

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	Jackson Browne - The Birds Of St. Marks

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The Birds of St. Marks by Jackson Browneالقصائد الغناءيه -текстове на песни -texty -paroles -στίχοι -गीतletras -songteksten -тексты песен -versuri -tekst utworu -testi -the text of the song - - نص الاغنيةтекста на песента -tekst pjesme -text písně -teksten til sangen -teksti, laulu -le texte de la chanson -το κείμενο του τραγουδιού -पाठ के गीतEl texto de la canción -de tekst van het lied -der Text des Liedes -teksten til sangen -o texto da canção -Текст песни -textul de la piesa -Texten till låten -il testo della canzone

The Birds of St. Marks by Jackson Browne

Oh how sadly sound the songs the queen must sing of dying
A prisoner upon her throne of melancholy sighing
If she could see her mirror now
She would be free of those who bow and
Scrape the ground before her feet

Silently she walks among her dying midnight roses
Watches as each moment goes that never really know us
And so it seems she doesn't care
If she has dreams of no one there
Within the shadows of her room

But all my frozen words agree, and say it's time to
Call back, all the birds I sent to
Fly behind her castle walls, and I'm
Weary of the nights I've seen
Inside these empty halls

Wooden lady turn and turn among my weary secrets
And wave within the hours past and other empty pockets
Maybe we've found what we have lost
When we've unwound so many crossed entangling
Misunderstandings; but

All my frozen words agree and say it's time to
Call back all the birds I sent to
Fly behind her castle walls, and I'm
Weary of the nights I've seen
Inside these empty walls

Writer : JACKSON BROWNE
Copyright : Lyrics © MICHAEL H GOLDSEN INC