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Southern Streets

from In Tongues by French Letters

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  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    The physical copy of this album is packaged with a book of poems that are the lyrics to the 10 songs on the album, a necessary companion to get the full "In Tongues" experience of poetry and music.

    Includes unlimited streaming of In Tongues via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 2 days
    edition of 400 
    Purchasable with gift card

      $7 USD

     

lyrics

Southern Streets

You Golgotha, you ghetto,
you're killing me, can't you see that?
Haven't you yet noticed my horns
you mad matador?
Briskly shaking crimson flags in my face,
taunting me with a red wealth
then pulling away...
You jest, I'm through,
fuck you, Sugar.

Sing your sweet reprise no more
you Moloch,
you whore,
you frail marrowed martyr.
What do you think you're dying for this week?
Shorter lines at the food stamp distribution window,
cheaper drinks at happy hours,
free delousing,
food
and showers?
What a mockery you have made of our condition
you shiggity Shyster,
you saggedy lackster,
you buster of luster...

Oh baby, where am I now that mania knows my name?

I am the long gone song of the terminally rotten,
I am the glassy-eyed gaze of the easily forgotten.
Oh baby, I need my sleep to come easy,
I need these southern
streets to release me.

The gutters fill with discarded mar,
the rain beads down her face,
her mascara paints a clown there.
Pinches her ass and makes her a joke
standing outside of that old Kentucky bar
waiting for a car
which never came.
Left her only wet in the breaking light of day.
It started raining, she started walking
when she swore she heard the pigeons talking,
making jokes of her dismay.
Baby's come a long way
as she pulls a slim cigarette from her pocketbook
and strikes a dampened match.
The street lamps go out and leave her in the gray,
a damp dawn so far from reckoning,
so voluptuous in its pain,
her hair now marred, now matting in the rain.
Cursing over her shoulder the
car which never came.

Oh baby, where am I now that insomnia knows my name?

I am the long gone song of the terminally rotten,
I am the glassy-eyed gaze of the easily forgotten.
Oh Lord, I seek my retreat
from these blighted southern streets.

credits

from In Tongues, released December 3, 2011
Organ played by Adam Prairie.

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French Letters Seattle, Washington

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