Three Brown Finches - Dirty Projectors

Three blocks west
At the edge of the lot
Three brown finches know a special spot
Feathers ruffled
Slender throats
There is no wind there

When we kicked a box down the empty road
And felt like insects in a scale model
Three brown finches knew where we were going
Those three brown finches

In comes the summer in a week of rain
Put it in your pocket all is living again
Here comes the summer
Here comes the summer
Here comes the summer

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