Iceland from Sketchbook by Marian Call

When I first laid eyes on Iceland she overthrew me,
all treeless purple-gray upon the sea
Her islands swam in figure-eights when nobody was watching,
and nobody was watching, only me, me, me
Nobody was watching, only me

It's the old things big things humble you
The mounds of what we all will crumble to
It's the hot things mad things make you rough
Make you think the thoughts you're putting off
And it's the rocks that grind us down into the sea the sea the sea
It's the rocks that grind us down into the sea

When the birds came back the clocks all skipped a heartbeat,
but they acted cool and pretended not to care
The mayor can step down -- the ravens run this town
And when he quorks they cock their heads and stare, stare, stare
And when he tries to talk they only stare

It's the old things tall things humble you
The mountains made of what we crumble to
It's the cold things small wings make you tough
Make you soldier through the darker stuff
And it's the glacier grinds us down into the sea the sea the sea
It's the glacier grinds us down into the sea

When we emptied out the lake I found the bottom
Our reflections were a fancy of the light
No matter that we botched it - nothing really watched it
No one witnessed trouble passing by by by
Nothing really saw us passing by

And it's the old things tall things humble you
The mounds of what we all will crumble to
It's the cold things dead things make you rough
Help you soldier through the darker stuff
And it's the rain that runs you down into the sea the sea the sea
And it's the rain that runs your soul down to the sea

And it's the rocks that grind us down into the sea the sea the sea
It's the rocks that grind us down into the sea

• Pop
• Rock
• acoustic
• folk
• indie rock
• singer-songwriter
• Alaska