Compass Rose
the low lonesome sound
Popularity ยท Low
YouTube
Searching YouTube...
Lyrics
We were the ones that dragged the garden hose through the roses
To leak that dirty water down on the crusted ground raised up in fossil vertebrae
The transplant died when you moved it to better ground
The coffee pot won't stay hot much north of here
And that silty water filters slow over twice used grounds mixed up with the damn burnt Chicory
You dance with the ones that brung you, their names are we
Circle round the floor in a spritely rigadoon
You tune that piano up then you burn it down
Your belly button is nothing but a bitter scar
Reminds you where you come from, where you're going, where you been, where you are
Oh I hope our mothers pray for us
Looking forward one day looking back again
An old man told me, "There is no such joy in the tavern as upon the road thereto." (-Cormac McCarthy in Blood Meridian)
Oh I hope our fathers drink to us
Circle round the drain like a shithouse fly
We followed the rose of a cockeyed weather vane
It doesn't matter to rats or crows not everything that shines is gold
As the ice cubes in my glass glitter back to water
You floated careful words to me, something about you had to leave
Plans all blown to hell in a cordite filagree
But the wind don't need you around to carry sound
Faster than a wet hen flies in the warm spring rain
You followed the rose of a cockeyed weather vane
And down the road went a crooked compass Rose
And down the road went a crooked compass Rose