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Making your way through an orangepeel orchard

Tracing your day from disillusioned to debauched

And spring passed quickly below the rotten elm tree

You werent kissed there you were pissed in the lavatory

And shaving is something that you grew out of

And it would take a heat wave to get you to take your jacket off.



You hang around the square watching someone kick the boys in

With a hand through your hair as if to comb out the poison

Sing some stupid song about crows in the wheatfield

Its been so long since you saw crows in the wheatfield



And dont forget that day you remembered

When you saw fish swim in the sewage system river

And keep revising that picture in your mind

When you left home and the crows behind

And the apples were sweet and summers were long

Digging in your bare feet on a short yellow lawn

You used to stifle a smile or forget not to yawn

Do all the things that men do when theyre to the river born.



With fifty-five pense between his two fingers

And a swirling head as the feeling of hunger lingers

Sing some stupid songs about crows in the wheatfield

Its been so long since you saw crows in the wheatfield

Sing some stupid song about crows in the wheatfield

You knew all along you were a crow in the wheatfield

Making your way through an orangepeel orchard

Tracing your day from disillusioned to debauched

And spring passed quickly below the rotten elm tree

You werent kissed there you were pissed in the lavatory

And shaving is something that you grew out of

And it would take a heat wave to get you to take your jacket off.



You hang around the square watching someone kick the boys in

With a hand through your hair as if to comb out the poison

Sing some stupid song about crows in the wheatfield

Its been so long since you saw crows in the wheatfield



And dont forget that day you remembered

When you saw fish swim in the sewage system river

And keep revising that picture in your mind

When you left home and the crows behind

And the apples were sweet and summers were long

Digging in your bare feet on a short yellow lawn

You used to stifle a smile or forget not to yawn

Do all the things that men do when theyre to the river born.



With fifty-five pense between his two fingers

And a swirling head as the feeling of hunger lingers

Sing some stupid songs about crows in the wheatfield

Its been so long since you saw crows in the wheatfield

Sing some stupid song about crows in the wheatfield

You knew all along you were a crow in the wheatfield

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