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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
The Clientele
Performer
Alasdair MacLean
Vocals
Alicia Macanás
Vocals
Dave Oxley
Horn
James Hornsey
Bass
Mark Keen
Drums
Non Peters
Violin
Ruth Elder
Violin
Sarah Field
Trumpet
Sebastian Millett
Cello
Stella Page
Viola
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Alicia Macanás
Songwriter
Alasdair MacLean
Songwriter
James Hornsey
Songwriter
Mark Keen
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Brian O'Shaughnessy
Assistant Recording Engineer
Marco Pasquariello
Assistant Recording Engineer
Simon Nelson
Assistant Recording Engineer
Lyrics
Blue sloes caught in wet grass
Jarita lasya
Blue sloes caught in wet grass
Jarita lasya
I remember so well
She was dying in May
She was dying in May
Blue sloes caught in wet grass
Jarita lasya
Caged birds flinch, the subway is still
Anna lives in the house on the hill
Where the sun's hot line is crossing the street so slow
Out of the dark
From the black pond rising
The nightingales
And they have crossed
Through the telegraph wires
To the clear dark air
Still so still, with your hands on your face
And I kissed your eyes and I knelt like I prayed
And the garden stirred
I was young again
I was young
I was young again
Los primeros villanos
Del anochecer
El aire comenzaron
A sembrar
After you wake
After the song
After the quiet dream of love in the indistinct dawn
Somebody's mowing the lawn
And if the hare's in the moon
Then you'll know that I'm coming through
After the light
After the dawn
After the morning rain hits junkyards
Fireweed and patio lawns
Your beautiful life
So hollow and clear in the light
Here in the face of your child
Here in the face of your child
After you wake
After the dream
After your father's hands have cradled still
Your sleeping head
His voice is so real
Calling the girl that you were
Calling you back through the night
Lost and found in the fire
Lost and found in the fire
Steel runs crack
The night sings back
The hare is in the moon
If I get myself together
I'll be 'round so soon
With a Russian glove
On a high-backed chair
That you moved aside
As the radio played
And you touched your face
And I am lost in your eyes
And I am lost in your eyes
And I am lost in your eyes
I am lost
So Alaine
I love the games we used to play
But I can't find my way back through the night
I remember days at school
When the only thing I knew
I was nobody at all
'Til the street lamps broke the spell
I don't know why
Writer(s): Mark Nicholas Keen, James Mark Hornsey, Alasdair David Maclean
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