Birch tree lost its branch one day in violent winter
I said it was grieving, you said it don´t feel nothing

I bet you think everything´s in its rightful place
That sentiment is man´s disgrace
Well the rooks in the trees, they don´t half bother me
Clawing at my mind with every given opportunity

It´s spring outside, a perilous sky and that terrible clattering sound
"Fuck it," you said, "You should go shoot them down"
So hey, that´s me
Shooting at a hundred-year-old rookery
Oh, look at me
The definition of futility
That´s what you say anyway

So I´ll go back to working through the gentle hours of the evening

Where the weather and the wine and the company treat me easily
Unknowing am I to the wind that took my eye
Unknowing am I of the wind

Unknowing am I of the wind that took my eye
Unknowing am I of the wind
Unknowing am I of the wind that took my eye
Unknowing am I of the wind
Unknowing am I of the wind that took my eye
Unknowing am I of the wind