The Weather Station - Atlantic

My god, I thought
My god, what a sunset
Blood red floods the Atlantic

With a wine in my hand, laid back
In the grass of some stranger's field
While shearwaters reeled overhead
Thinking I should get all this dying off of my mind
I should really know better than to read the headlines
Does it matter if I see?
No really
Can I not just cover my eyes?

In the half light, soft wind on my skin
Pink clouds massing on the cliffs
Thinking how can I touch this?
How can I touch this softest petal
Softest stem, softest leaf, bending, green, in my palm?
Thinking I should get all this dying off of my mind
I should really know better than to read the headlines
Does it matter if I see?
No really
Can I not just cover my eyes?
Oh, tell me
Why can't I just cover my eyes?

Written by:
Tamara Lindeman

Publisher:
Lyrics © Hipgnosis Songs Group

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