Paroles It's Frances, She's Singing de Adam Gnade + The Confederate Yankees

Textes et Paroles de It's Frances, She's Singing

In February I feel flues and fountains inside meI hoard booze and sleep late and don't leave the house for weeksSo Frances and Christian fight treacherous land sharks and drink until they speak tonguesAnd Sadie loses her soldier to another girl and then he's goneHunting infidels through sand stormsBut I see a battlefield before me while the winter sun fractals and pale rays through my car's windowAnd I drive past mattress stores and gas stations and bus stops and my friend on the stereo singsThat it's not going wellAnd it's not going badlyIt's just going alongIn the end the winter's a revelation but it comes late and we've been down to dark placesBy march we have lost our way and are picked apart by crows with eyes like black agatesAnd beaks obsidian cut and deathlyWe wear threadbare sweaters and old blue jeans and don't clean the houseWe are teenage sluts and tall plastic shoes and we are bloodthirsty dogsAnd in April the fog comes and the skies go clearAnd from the ground green sprouts of prepubescent trees stretch and reach to the light which is dim and flickeryLike a silent movieAnd Frances she singsWell there's a town in my dreams that I've never even seenAnd it runs round the coast of CaliforniaAnd it's got sun and it's got sandAnd it's nothing like my landAll gray with drizzling rainAnd mangled mansionsBut they keep on comingThose shit days and ridiculous nightsAnd I swear some motherfucker spoke a curse on usSo we eat garlic and ginger to fight off the bluesWe have space clearings and sun ritualsAnd the cold rolls onIt rolls on

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