The heart is hard to translate It has a language of its own It talks in tongues and quiet sighs In prayers and proclamations In the grand days of great men In the smallest of gestures In short, shallow gasps
But with all my education I can't seem to commend it And the words are all escaping And coming back all damaged And I would put them back in poetry If I only knew how I can't seem to understand it, and
And I would give all this and heaven too I would give it all, if only for a moment That I could just understand The meaning of the word, you see 'cause I've been scrawling it forever But it never made sense to me at all
And it talks to me in tiptoes And sings to me inside And cries out in the darkest nights And breaks in the morning light
But with all my education I can't seem to commend it And the words are all escaping And coming back all damaged And I would put them back in poetry If I only knew how I can't seem to understand it, and
And I would give all this and heaven too I would give it all, if only for a moment That I could just understand The meaning of love, you see 'cause I've been scrawling it forever But it never made sense to me, At all
Noo Words Called a language Doesn't deserve such treatment And all my stumbling phrases Never amount to anything Worth this feeling All this heaven Never could describe such a feeling As I'm having Words were never so useful So I was screaming out a language That I never knew existed before
Compositores: Florence Welch (PRS), Isabella Janet Florentina Summers (PRS)Editores: Florence + The Machine Ltd, Universal Music Publishing Limited (PRS)Publicado em 2011 (01/Nov)ECAD verificado obra #5841157 e fonograma #12750050 em 21/Abr/2024 com dados da UBEM