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Inland To Mercy

from Sound by Niall Connolly

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lyrics

Inland to Mercy,
And South on 99,
Where your family can't hurt you,
And the strangers might be kind.
When you lose your trust in everyone,
You make a cage out of this life,
If I make it through the next few hours,
I'll make it through all right.

Folding up the maps,
Like you know where you are going,
Shield your eyes from the headlights,
When where you've been starts showing.
Change your name in every town,
And step out of your skin,
Tear it up or burn it down,
Before letting anybody in.

Oh little bird, without a footprint,
The measure of the strength of your tiny wings,
There are no words, for these kind of things,
This is why the little birds sing.

Too busy being vague,
To get anything done,
Lend your body to the pleasures,
Of these ghosts, one by one,
Your thoughts are always elsewhere,
But they're not the sort to mind,
If your soul's a little further,
North on 99.

Oh little bird, without a footprint,
The measure of the strength of your tiny wings,
There are no words, for these kind of things,
This is why the little birds sing.

It's just a show of the world,
A Song off the station,
Conversation overheard,
Local history and the origin of words,
The geography that chases,
The accents, trees and birds,

Those little birds, without a footprint,
The measure of the strength of your tiny wings,
There are no words, for these kind of things,
There are no words, for these kind of things,
There are no words, for these kind of things,
This is why the little birds sing.

credits

from Sound, released April 9, 2013

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all rights reserved

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Niall Connolly Brooklyn, New York

"Terrific. Disarming and beautifully crafted folk-pop. Connolly is a witty storyteller and a not-to-be-missed songsmith."

- The Chicago Tribune

"Among the most vibrant, poignant, and authentic indie folk artists in New York City."

-No Depression
... more

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