picking up sticks

Paul Weller

Come blackest crow
Start the wheat field blow
In a wind so high
It waves and glows
til you can t see the wood for the trees
I m like anybody on their knees
Trying to find a way to make it fit
Picking up sticks

Let s swirl again
Take us far away
To the church bell s chime
In a far distant field
To a place where so lately so slow
And a time I feel like letting it go
Far away enough to catch our breath
I know where and everyone there
Looking to click
Picking up sticks

Come crimson rays
Paint us all the same
You know the magic is why
And it s here again
Now you can t see the wood for the trees
Now like anybody on their knees
Far away enough to catch our breath
Looking to click