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Description
A song about Autumn - candles,leaves and that bright sunlight you only get at this time of year.
I recently delved inside this cheap accoustic guitar to find a pick-up that had fallen inside.The bridge had already broken and I'd been using a piece of wood up until now,so I tried using the pick up as a bridge,and got quite a clear,rich sound - making it alot easier to record.I love it when DIY actually works!
Thank you - RG
I recently delved inside this cheap accoustic guitar to find a pick-up that had fallen inside.The bridge had already broken and I'd been using a piece of wood up until now,so I tried using the pick up as a bridge,and got quite a clear,rich sound - making it alot easier to record.I love it when DIY actually works!
Thank you - RG
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Lyrics
Burning Of The Leaves
Here Inside the huts of the hoaxers
You're hoarding wealth of a different kind
Diggin' doubts in the dreams of the dreamers
Diggin' dirt where theres nothing to find
Beggars bold turuned drunkards old
Sneaking around on the underground
I love my dog she's all I got
I've got off from the roundabout
And the leaves are burning gold
And the wax is turning cold
I lived in the desert for a 100 years
I can't communicate my big ideas
My legs are like twigs and my eyes are green
Green with all the big things I have seen
You wrap my name around a twisted stick
The river runs over me fast and thick
Got a persian bag all filled with jewels
I sell them on a sunday in the vestibules
And the leaves are burning gold (Catch em while they're falling)
And the wax is turning cold (A riddle in the flame)
My home-grown four leaved clover redeemers
Are pinned to the shirts of the true believers
They smile and reach out for the sun
I just pull a string and the moon pops up
Built a house of cards just ready to fall
When the pendulum swings that crystal ball
Gonna knock em down n set em up
Pour a little wine in a paper cup..
And the leaves are burning gold
And the wax is turning cold
RG Paddler (C) 2010
Here Inside the huts of the hoaxers
You're hoarding wealth of a different kind
Diggin' doubts in the dreams of the dreamers
Diggin' dirt where theres nothing to find
Beggars bold turuned drunkards old
Sneaking around on the underground
I love my dog she's all I got
I've got off from the roundabout
And the leaves are burning gold
And the wax is turning cold
I lived in the desert for a 100 years
I can't communicate my big ideas
My legs are like twigs and my eyes are green
Green with all the big things I have seen
You wrap my name around a twisted stick
The river runs over me fast and thick
Got a persian bag all filled with jewels
I sell them on a sunday in the vestibules
And the leaves are burning gold (Catch em while they're falling)
And the wax is turning cold (A riddle in the flame)
My home-grown four leaved clover redeemers
Are pinned to the shirts of the true believers
They smile and reach out for the sun
I just pull a string and the moon pops up
Built a house of cards just ready to fall
When the pendulum swings that crystal ball
Gonna knock em down n set em up
Pour a little wine in a paper cup..
And the leaves are burning gold
And the wax is turning cold
RG Paddler (C) 2010















































paddler
very much ED Hannifin and for the other messages from others.Disabling the comments was an experiment but it did feel very impolite! I gave in! Many thank you's indeed - Rich (-: