Tekster: Mountain Goats, The. Peacocks.

I hear them squeal

I see them preen

Fans all spread out

Neat and clean



Grab hold of the morning

Head out to the porch

Feel the wind stopping

Feel the sun scorch

I fear for my safety

You can see it in my eyes

In an hour or two

We will rise



Then a sharp breeze kicks up

I hug myself hard

How come there's peacocks in the front yard?



Sun's all prickly

On my neck

When the helicopter passes

We both hit the deck

Hands grasping and groping

Seizing opportunity

Right where it lies

The sky will fall

We will rise