Songtext von Snow Drums

Three on the backseat as we drive home from rehearsal There's snow on the drums The snare shudders like a cold ghost between my mittens in the trunk, guitars slide like dead over dead It's stopped snowing We think we see foxes I breathe a canvas on the window to write your name on the landscape The sky is a grey flint from coast to coast with birds frozen in Magic Trees share the dashboard with a Playdoh Jesus Grapelli and Reinhardt lock horns on the radio I draw a black skull on my jeans, not thinking, through to the skin the headlamps come on at five I miss you bad