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sentimental man - the orchardist lyrics

the poet sits down in his wooden chair
the walls of his apartment are boring and bare
but the walls of his mind are clothed with
paintings and ill*strations
colored with imagination

and it’s easy for him to be embarassed
when he has no money in his pale hands
he claims his riches are greater than gold
but no one understands
yeah no one understands
they just laugh
and laugh
and they call him

the sentimental man
silly sentimental man
silly silly sentimental man

not many people still see what he sees
in a life that comеs and goes like a quick summer storm
eithеr time is a thief or a gift this man lives to recieve
and give back through his poetry
it’s a mystery
how the words flow from his pen
it’s something he knows but he will never understand
and as long as the earth keeps spinning around again
there will always be more words
but what are words even worth?
cause when he’s gotta make some money
he’s just a sentimental man
a silly sentimental man
a silly silly sentimental man

keep singing through your scars
mr sentimental man
there will always be fruit in the garden
if there’s dirt on your hands
keep singing through your scars
mr sentimental man
there will always be fruit in the garden
if there’s dirt on your hands
dirt on your hands
dirt on your hands
dirt on your hands
dirt on your hands
dirt on your hands
dirt on your hands
dirt on your hands
there will always be dirt on your hands

sentimental man
silly sentimental man
silly silly sentimental man
silly silly sentimental man
silly silly sentimental man

- the orchardist lyrics

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