The winterlings you are acres
The winterlings you are acres
/
  1. Easter Dress

From the album You Are Acres

In cart Not available Out of stock

Lyrics

Easter Dress
© 2011 Words and Music by Amanda Birdsall

You were 6 years old, a smart and solitary child
Your mother chattered with a dozen other well-heeled wives
On the lawn in your Easter dress
Self-conscious and dispossessed
Dry vermouth in a sherry glass
You heard your name as they all began to laugh

But oh, child, don’t weep
Don’t let it tie you to the tree
The little years will fall like seeds

With your brother’s friends, sarcasm and cigarettes
Darting eyes remind you that you’re not like them
Strained attempts at casualness
Come across as obsequious
A little slow to the punchline
A mile behind them and their slippery smiles

But oh, child, don’t weep
Don’t let it tie you to the tree
The little years will fall like seeds

But oh, child, don’t weep
Don’t let it tie you to the tree
The little years will fall like seeds