Atticus Finch
Текст песни Burning Letters

And so she thought about him
Without wanting to
She stumbled through
Tasting the plain light of him
Guilt kills come the whisper
So she brush that voice from her shoulder
Guilt kills come again
Then she tap her forehead gently
With the quill of her dead husband's pen
Saying na, na here's the spool
Here's the spool of love

Is it cold waiting outside
With the moon in the starlight

So fifty years later
He's fifty years better
And brings the oxygen
That she moves
To kindle the flames
Setting fire to all of her things

All the furniture
The bric-a-brac
And all the vows she made