There’s a cloud over Brooklyn
There’s a fog in my town
One hundred years - hanging around
Carry him, carry him into his bed
Lay him down to rest
Carry him, carry him into his bed
Lay him down
Sweep you under, sweet you are her
Watch him lowered in the wind
While the aching trees bloom and bend
Faltered steps, your black best, now grass grows where iron slept
I wish he would look at me with one more breath.
Carry him, carry him into his bed
Lay him down to rest
Carry him, carry him into his bed
Lay him down
——- instrumental
I can't remember
Carry him, carry him into his bed
Lay him down to rest
Carry him, carry him into his bed
Lay him down
There’s a cloud over Brooklyn, there’s a fog in my town.
Heart-stirring art pop constructed from an intricate latticework of keys, guitars, and anthemic vocals in songs that go and go and go. Bandcamp New & Notable Nov 13, 2022