Paroles The Sleepless Blues de Mal Madrigal

Textes et Paroles de The Sleepless Blues

You woke me up at midnight, when the hardwood floors were cold.
And the light stabbed through the window, spots the pile where we disrobed.
In a hotel room in Jersey, all the smoke that paints the walls.
We knew that we'd be busy, told the desk to hold our calls.
Your husband is in the city. You said he hasn't got a clue,
Forbidden fruit can exorcise the nasty demons of the blues.
January's empty, to march its all the same,
We picked the last month of the winter so the sheets could hide the shame.
You'd list the ways that he was awful. You said that I was something great.
Said you listened to my old stuff, back when I had something to say.
Well I'm not looking for inspiration, just a simple twist of fate,
Thought I could have a bit and leave you, but I was hooked at just a taste.

The morning is coming, I feel like a wreck.
The shades are half open, desire unchecked,
My love, a scene, there'll be bodies on the floor.

Breathing heavy at the window, drawing hearts into the fog,
And the necklace at your bosom marks your faith and hanging God.
Looking out across the river, looking out onto the docks,
The all-night labor as relentless as the conscience we forgot.
You're saying, "Tell me that you love me."
I'm saying, "Babe, it's not my fault."
Holding hands and pleading "helpless." A bit of passion steeped in guilt.
For every car that's speeding under, to every footstep down the hall,
Every corner now is haunted as ghost knocks on the door.
Crouching low beneath the peer hole, leaning low upon the floor.
It's these fits of desperation got me wanting more and more.

The tinge of fear he might be coming, that he'll show up to settle the score,
With the man who has been stealing the once cherished wife he held before.
Change rattles from the mattress, the only change that we got left.
At least a ticket for a Greyhound, make good on plans for heading west.
Babe, I got nothing good to offer. But we will never get us rest.
If we stay here any longer, you'll be the bullet in my chest.

And who wants to clean up that kind of mess?
Do you want that kind of scene, babe,
All that blood on your dress? My love, a scene,
There'll be bodies on the floors

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