Dirty Projectors
Three Brown Finches
Three blocks west
At the edge of the lot
Three brown finches know a special spot
Feathers ruffled
Slender throats
There is no wind there
When we kicked a box down the empty road
And felt like insects in a scale model
Three brown finches knew where we were going
Those three brown finches
In comes the summer in a week of rain
Put it in your pocket all is living again
Here comes the summer
Here comes the summer
Here comes the summer
From Letras Mania