Alela Diane
Alela Diane
Alela Diane
Alela Diane
Alela Diane
Alela Diane
Alela Diane
Alela Diane
Alela Diane
Alela Diane
Alela Diane
Alela Diane
Alela Diane
Alela Diane
1, 2, 3, 4
Paper pockets was my pastel
And from marching maps my finger nails
I scratching for a brave
That’s not been wrong yet
That’s not been wrong yet
'Cause I was a child with fits of fury
I was a child with fits of fury
And I didn’t love my god less
And I didn’t need my full skirt
Oh, I didn’t love my god less
And I didn’t need my full skirt
To beg green gypsy eyes
To beg green gypsy eyes
But I’ve seen you in narrow streets
I’ve turned some rocky ground
So I prune my trees back
For a stand tall garden
And I’ve counted some closets
So I, counted some closets
But now I'll knock my
Now I'll knock my
Sorrow shadows
I'll knock my sorrow, shadows
'Cause I was a child with fits of fury
Oh, I was a child with fits of fury
And I didn’t love my god bless
And I didn’t need my full skirt
Oh, I didn’t love my god bless
And I didn’t need my full skirt
To beg green gypsy eyes
To beg green gypsy eyes
Do you see this holy, holy spirit
Round my neck
Do you see I wear
This holy spirit round my neck
But it’s for my sister swallow
So play me pardon
Father son
Play me pardon
Father son
Father son
Father son
'Cause I was a child with fits of fury
Oh, I was a child with fits of fury
And I didn’t love my god bless
And I didn’t need my full skirt
Oh, I didn’t love my god bless
And I didn’t need my full skirt
To beg green gypsy eyes
To beg green gypsy eyes
To beg green gypsy eyes