Ear to the ground I sift through
Piles of falling letters
Copying keys roll down my sleeves
A part of the hanging garden
Of the city
Downtown the sounds of single
People doing nothing
Nose to the wall I follow
Paths of tiny fissures
Falling trapeze, the Japanese
Are watching the garden growing
On an island
Surround the mound and run your
Fingers through the filings
The Books - Getting The Done Job Lyrics
The Books - Getting The Done Job Lyrics
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Ear to the ground I sift through
Piles of falling letters
Copying keys roll down my sleeves
A part of the hanging garden
Of the city
Downtown the sounds of single
People doing nothing
Nose to the wall I follow
Paths of tiny fissures
Falling trapeze, the Japanese
Are watching the garden growing
On an island
Surround the mound and run your
Fingers through the filings
Piles of falling letters
Copying keys roll down my sleeves
A part of the hanging garden
Of the city
Downtown the sounds of single
People doing nothing
Nose to the wall I follow
Paths of tiny fissures
Falling trapeze, the Japanese
Are watching the garden growing
On an island
Surround the mound and run your
Fingers through the filings