Craft Indie Folk male vocal lyrics centered on the quiet absurdity of a 70-year-old competitive birdwatcher’s feud with his childhood rival, unfolding across hours of hidden forest blinds, where the two accidentally bond over shared grief for their late birdwatching mentor. Music parameters: BPM 85-102, shifting 15 BPM upward during the climax of their unexpected truce. Core instrumentation: bowed psaltery, field recordings of wood thrushes, typewriter percussion marking each bird sighting tally, open DADGAD tuning in D major. Emotion: soft playful exasperation laced with gentle melancholy and quiet cosmic warmth, with vocals drifting from soft conversational murmur to wispy falsetto when describing the rare albatross both spent 30 years chasing. Lyrics carry domestic surrealism, with the pair’s scribbled bird-watching notebooks doubling as unspoken love letters to the life they both chose to spend in the trees.
歌词
[Intro] [Verse] Silas, you're breathing too loud Hiding behind that cedar shroud Seventy years of this game Neither of us is the same Your lens is cracked at the edge I’m perched on this limestone ledge We’ve shared this damp forest floor Always keeping the score [Pre-Chorus] Technicolor feathers in the sun Counting till the day is done Waiting for a sign or a sound Six inches off the ground [Chorus] Oh, we traded the parlor for pines Tracing the flight of the lines Notebooks filled up with the ghosts Of the birds that we love the most Just two old men in the leaves Wearing our hearts on our sleeves [Post-Chorus] Click-clack, the tally goes on Before the light is all gone Click-clack, the tally goes on [Verse] My typewriter keys are all stuck You say that I’ve run out of luck You claim that’s a Warbler in blue But I know a Finch when I view Remember how Miller would frown? When we let the binoculars down He taught us to look past the wing To hear what the silences sing [Hook] Is it you? Is it me? Who is lost in the tree? Is it him? Is it us? In the thrush and the dust? [Chorus] Oh, we traded the parlor for pines Tracing the flight of the lines Notebooks filled up with the ghosts Of the birds that we love the most Just two old men in the leaves Wearing our hearts on our sleeves [Bridge] The flask has a dent from the fall I offer it over the wall He’s gone and the forest is cold We’re the only ones left to be bold To remember the way that he spoke Before the great silence awoke I miss how he’d whistle the tune Under a pale morning moon [Build-up] The wind starts to rattle the bone We are never truly alone The rhythm is picking up pace I see the old grief on your face [Verse] Then white wings split the gray Thirty years drifted away The Albatross sails on the wind Where the sky and the water are thinned We don't even reach for the pen We just become children again No more tallies to keep Before we both go to sleep [Chorus] Oh, we traded the parlor for pines Tracing the flight of the lines Notebooks filled up with the ghosts Of the birds that we love the most Just two old men in the leaves Wearing our hearts on our sleeves [Outro]
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