Your Ode Played by French Horns

[Refrain]
Working the heart muscles
Working the art muscles
Walking circles in the snow
You gotta bloom where you're planted
Especially if it's not the place you chose

[Verse 1]
I was a failure sailing the whale road
Around the ransacked world
Freedom for dry ground
Cast on the high ground
Aspiration furled
Now all's fish that comes to my net

[Chorus]
Don't start with the good old things
Start with the bad new ones
Don't look for the pure things
Look for the make do ones
If you gotta choose between a sausage and a rose
Between the beast in the bushes and bowling scorеs
That's me, heartworn
Scoring your ode playеd just by French horns

[Refrain]
Working the heart muscles
Working the art muscles
Walking circles in the snow
You gotta bloom where you're planted
Even if it's not the place you chose

[Verse 2]
Day drinking, night coffee, the sonata and the fugue
Just wish that uptown would tighten up its screws
Before hungry fish mumble at your wounds

[Chorus]
Don't start with the good old things
Start with the bad new ones
Don't look for the pure things
Look for the make do ones
If you gotta choose between a sausage and a rose
Between the beast in the bushes and bowling scores
A life of fireworks and country taverns
Breaking eggs to search for patterns

[Bridge]
Regret the past, endure the present, despair for the future
Wait to write your stories until the kids are tucked in
When you can change the happy endings

[Refrain]
Working the heart muscles (Working the heart muscles)
Working the art muscles (Working the art muscles)
Working the heart muscles (Working the heart muscles)
Working the art muscles (Working the art muscles)
Working the heart muscles (Working the heart muscles)
Working the art muscles

[Chorus]
Don't start with the good old things
Start with the bad new ones
If you don't look for the pure things
You can see the make do ones
If you gotta choose between a sausage and a rose
Between the beast in the bushes and bowling scores
That's me, heartworn
Scoring your ode played just by French horns
A life of fireworks and country taverns
Breaking eggs to search for patterns
That's me, heartworn
Scoring your ode played just by French horns