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The Decemberists: "Everything actually is awful, and it's not that funny"
Colin Meloy chats with Dork about getting out of old habits, branching out into literature and what’s next for The Decemberists.
Nov 7, 2018 • 3:30 PM
Lyrics
Here we come to a turning of the season Witness to the arc towards the sun A neighbor's blessed burden within reason Becomes a burden borne of all and one And nobody, nobody knows Let the yoke fall from our shoulders Don't carry it all, don't carry it all We are all our hands and holders Beneath this bold and brilliant sun And this I swear to all A monument to build beneath the arbors Upon a plinth that towers t'wards the trees Let every vessel pitching hard to starboard Lay its head on summer's freckled knees And nobody, nobody knows Let the yoke fall from our shoulders Don't carry it all, don't carry it all We are all our hands and holders Beneath this bold and brilliant sun And this I swear to all And this I swear to all A there a wreath of trillium and ivy Laid upon the body of a boy Lazy will the loam come from its hiding And return this quiet searcher to the soil So raise a glass to turnings of the season And watch it as it arcs towards the sun And you must bear your neighbor's burden within reason And your labors will be borne when all is done And nobody, nobody knows Let the yoke fall from our shoulders Don't carry it all, don't carry it all We are all our hands and holders Beneath this bold and brilliant sun And this I swear to all And this I swear to all And this I swear to all And this I swear to all To all To all To all, all
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