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lyrics

Babby, be kind. Don't torture his tied-up, kidnapped mind with answers to questions you left behind. Aren't there still so many leprechauns to find with their pot of gold?

When you're all alone
and the sun has set
and you're getting cold

Babby, be good. Nail Jesus so gently to the wood. Not many have ever understood; there's a kind of pain that we know one day could prove a pot of gold.

When you're all alone
and you missed your turn
and you're getting old

Babby, be free! Like a fish, flopping out of the sea! Like the killer in an unsolved mystery! Like us, when in our poverty we'd found a pot of gold.

We were each alone
and there was nothing
else to hold.

credits

from Demos w/ Sax, released June 24, 2016

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Alex Rake and the Leaves Mission, British Columbia

Alex Rake is a songwriter, poet, and playwright from the Fraser Valley and the Leaves are his friends.

They yell and improvise all over troubadour songs.

linktr.ee/alextherake

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