|
DEALER
|
(Scott Walker)
|
|
The windows are ringing
|
shaking Night-nites for angels
|
rattling throats up and down on a beam.
|
|
Cooling the hearts
|
cooling the plasma
|
keeping ice junkies packed hard on a seam
|
|
The other side of a prowler
|
the dead still search the living.
|
|
At least there we did not not fail.
|
|
Coming to in the overcast
|
tracks are still flowing.
|
|
At least there he does not wail.
|
|
Psalms of your hands
|
sung into the lateness
|
move a circuit on the white
|
and he can't feel a thing.
|
|
Gone always alone to all you are never
|
he climbs into your mouth
|
when the windows ring.
|
|
The windows are ringing
|
shaking dead men for angels
|
Hissing brains boiling up
|
press't to the bone
|
|
uncoils the wire whole night long
|
bumping out thru the eye in knots.
|
|
Sweet hot numbers
|
sweet hots
|
bumping out thru the eye
|
on a wire of knots.
|
|
Sweet hot numbers
|
sweet hots
|
bumping out thru the eye
|
on a wire of knots.
|
|
Psalms of your hands
|
sung into the lateness
|
move a circuit on the white
|
and he can't feel a thing.
|
|
Gone always alone to all you are never
|
he climbs into your mouth
|
when the windows ring.
|
|
|
|
-----------------
|
DEALER
|
Scott Walker |