Three Brown Finches - Dirty Projectors

Three blocks west

At the edge of the lot

Three brown finches know a special spot

Feathers ruffled

Slender throats

There is no wind there

When we kicked a box down the empty road

And felt like insects in a scale model

Three brown finches knew where we were going

Those three brown finches

In comes the summer in a week of rain

Put it in your pocket all is living again

Here comes the summer

Here comes the summer

Here comes the summer