1. |
Underwater Prostitutes
02:54
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2. |
Eternal Life
04:19
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3. |
Coughing Blood
03:34
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|
backyard romeos
soaking up the afterglow
tied to a porch swing
all dressed up and nowhere to go
who cares who said it
who cares what's said
a prick on the arm and off to bed
a drugged up country boy
who never knew his place
so charmingly devoid, so easy to replace
another caravan is pulling away
full of art fags and rough trade
and in the mission district
a battered drunk says "leave the light on"
scrawny knees scarred
by gravel highways
cleft to the hilt of a hemline
fingers suture up the wound in a daze
kept out of hindsight
with loose limbs and dim lights
left there in mourning
with rose colored glasses and cum-shot eyes
a drugged up country boy...
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4. |
Verse
05:31
|
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|
we were in love with falling apart
and when the end came
we felt no shame
tie up my hands with violin strings
we'll waltz on the skin
we shed for our sins
hang up these sheets to dry by the fire
no need to complain
they'll feel the same
cherish the lies we clutch to our sides
and any day now
they'll come back around
somewhere pass the gallows
there's a horse in need of breaking
someday we'll look back on this
and wonder why we're shaking
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5. |
Canned Laughter
04:24
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|
our friends are already old
it's hard to keep your hands steady
steady when there's nowhere to go
if you start again keep it to yourself
"to bitter friends and better health"
call me on the way to the gin pit
I promise if I ever hesitate then I'll quit
"it's just a flick of the wrist"
if there were something there I wouldn't want to know
I've got nothing left to show
we lost the plot before we had a chance
we had our watches set by circumstance
so if you start again I promise not to tell
and if we're criminals it's just as well
keep talking, one of these days we're bound to stop and wonder why
in the meantime, I'll leave the engine idle and wait for the battery to die
I gave my legs to the slave trade
lit the glasses to see what the smoke weighed
before it carried me away
if I were wiser now I'd use it to forget
I don't think it's better yet
starving for a limited intake
I'm cataloguing all the little ways we can break
and trading stares for the shakes
if we start again we'll never make it home
I've never felt so good alone
keep talking, one of these days we're bound to stop and wonder why
in the meantime I'll leave the engine idle and wait for the battery to die
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Pop Martyrs Denton, Texas
pop martyrs were and will forever remain:
jean-genet ramsey, morehead atwood, yukio tweeshima, gay g. ballard, and a.
chilton.
management/occasional psychic outbursts - j.k. fistmans
(play at a loud or quiet volume.)
... more
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