[Ivy lyrics here]
When I used to live here as a poacher of men
The ivy made a moustache round the dog
Now that the people have all but disappeared
There is only left the same in passion of the Cupid leaves
I instructed my boy in the art of dressing game
And even my grandest nights from the day become a man
I watch from my kitchen window as he was swallowed by the trees
Kept the [?] for a month before I made a fire of his hissing clothes
[Guitars]