This is Flood by the Acorn.

You lift your head from wild and wicked sleep.

Her seven-headed serpents hits theiloquies

While picking snails from the river of the valley

Don't see the storm clouds piling up so quietly. The rushing river rattles

Snakes your legs

And maybe boys got you drinking from the dead

You lick your lips And paddle for the levee

The sinking banks are sifting through your tea

As you float up see the river skins the valley

and strips the sleeping sediment of memory The

The You lift your head from wild and wicked sleep

The withered rivers

Fuddered at your feet

And all around

The sound is slow and muddy

The sunlight Scattered pennies for the leaves

As you wake up see the river skins the valley

You'd love to watch this summer from your memory

You're out to watch this summer from your memory The

I'm not going to be the Oh, Lo-la-L-L-A-L-O-N-O-N-L-A-L-L-A-L-L-L-A-L-L-L-A- You just listened to the song Flood by the band The Acorn from their album, Glory Hope Mountain,

released on one of my favorite labels, Paperbag Records.

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