Jonathan Low

Last born of the clan
First one to be free
Lived inside a house
Beneath the hanging tree

Londonderry nights
That chilled him to the bone
Words were cried at night
In unforgiving tones

Blood of his men
Was gone beneath snow
He picked up his knife and his bow
The killer of Jonathan Low

Violence from without
And anger from within
Crawling through the fields
Informing next of kin

They all turned their backs
But they all knew his name
And if he could return
They’d probably do the same

Blood of his friends
Was gone beneath snow
For all that I know he died
Killer of Jonathan Low

Music by Ezra Koenig, Rostam Batmanglij, Chris Tomson and Chris Baio / Lyrics by Ezra Koenig / Produced by Rostam Batmanglij

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