Myla Goldberg sets a steady hand upon her brow
Myla Goldberg hangs a crooked foor all upside down
It comes around it comes around it comes around it comes around
Pretty hands do pretty things when pretty times arise
Seraphim in seaweed swim where stick-limbed Myla lies
It comes around it comes around it comes around it comes around
Still now you're waiting to grow
Inside you're old
Sew wings to your pigeon toes
Put paper to pen and spell out Eliza
We begin with sticky shins, make sticky then our shoes
Shoes beget to clothes and hat 'til sticky's sticking too
Finiculi, finicula, finicule, finicula
Listen in as shin-kicked Jim relates his story sad
About a boy who kicked until his shins were all but rubber bands
But now I know New York I need New York I know I need unique New York
Song For The Myla Goldberg Video (MV)
The Decemberists - Song For The Myla Goldberg Lyrics
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Myla Goldberg sets a steady hand upon her brow
Myla Goldberg hangs a crooked foor all upside down
It comes around it comes around it comes around it comes around
Pretty hands do pretty things when pretty times arise
Seraphim in seaweed swim where stick-limbed Myla lies
It comes around it comes around it comes around it comes around
Still now you're waiting to grow
Inside you're old
Sew wings to your pigeon toes
Put paper to pen and spell out Eliza
We begin with sticky shins, make sticky then our shoes
Shoes beget to clothes and hat 'til sticky's sticking too
Finiculi, finicula, finicule, finicula
Listen in as shin-kicked Jim relates his story sad
About a boy who kicked until his shins were all but rubber bands
But now I know New York I need New York I know I need unique New York
Myla Goldberg hangs a crooked foor all upside down
It comes around it comes around it comes around it comes around
Pretty hands do pretty things when pretty times arise
Seraphim in seaweed swim where stick-limbed Myla lies
It comes around it comes around it comes around it comes around
Still now you're waiting to grow
Inside you're old
Sew wings to your pigeon toes
Put paper to pen and spell out Eliza
We begin with sticky shins, make sticky then our shoes
Shoes beget to clothes and hat 'til sticky's sticking too
Finiculi, finicula, finicule, finicula
Listen in as shin-kicked Jim relates his story sad
About a boy who kicked until his shins were all but rubber bands
But now I know New York I need New York I know I need unique New York
Writer: COLIN MELOY
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management