HomeSongsAlternative PopThe Ward at Half Past Moon
The Ward at Half Past Moon

The Ward at Half Past Moon

E
EjZnsR
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Song Details

Group of women in a mental institution discussing their diagnoses with each other , whimsical And comical popera, cinematic, vocal riffs, soft harmonies, chorus focused, authoritative voice, soaring vocals, delay echoes, emotional, sentimental, grand
Genre
Alternative Pop
Mood
Energetic πŸŒžγ€Inspirational βœ¨γ€Confident 😎
Scene
Emotional Healing、Relax
Vocal Type
Harmony、Female Vocal
Duration
3:37
Plays
3
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Lyrics

We, yeah, we, yeah, we, yeah;

We met beneath a figure of the hall;

In matching gowns that never quite fit on;

She said, my chart is planets in the margins;

I said, mine blooms where verse and one margins;

We trade in notes, in whispers and in rent;

Like secret saints in paper-thin skin;

The night nurse sighed, the moon kept leaning in;

As if our little truths were music for the year;

Oh, tell me what the doctor wrote down there;

Did he call it thunder?

Did he call it prayer?

We are a choir with a crack in every crown;

Singing at the ceiling, lifting judgment down;

Oh, tell me what the doctor wrote down there;

We laughed like bells and flowed through the air;

Molly said she can hear the carpets talk;

And Elsie claims the clocks have learned to walk;

I confess I bowed to every shining spoon;

And hung to keep the shadows in tune;

We traded notes in whispers and in grin;

Like secret saints in papers and skin;

The night nurse sighed, the moon kept leaning near;

As if our little truths were music for the ear;

Oh, tell me what the doctor wrote down there;

Did he call it thunder?

Did he call it prayer?

We are a choir with a crack in every crown;

Singing up the ceiling, lifting judgment down;

Oh, tell me what the doctor wrote down there;

He laughed like bells and flew through the air;

If I am broken, let me be a bright design;

A chandelier of fragments all in time;

We are not lost and merely off the track;

Dancing in the margins, looking back;

And if the dawn comes wearing starlit eyes;

We will answer, swinging twice as nice;

Oh, tell me what the doctor all counted;

Did he call it thunder?

Did he call it prayer?

We are a choir with a crack in every crown;

Singing up the ceiling, lifting judgment down;

Oh, tell me what the doctor wrote down there;

We laughed like bells and flew through the air;

So close to fire, so close to fire;

And it didn't lie, and it didn't lie;

It only flew me through the night, through the night;

In every diagnosis there is a tune;

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