Summer night on south laurel street
Nobody’s vacant, complacent and drunk
Broken bottles, thorns cut her feet
Her jesus man, he makes her wild
He walks her to the corner store
To buy that drink she’s looking for
Drinking makes her think of youth
The reason she’s wrinkled, jaded, and abused
Forget about it, feel it right
Don’t let go, forget the night
My mother always told me this:
The girls on corners; be sure to miss
I finished all my turpentine
Now all that’s left is blood and wine
Girl, don’t forget to feel me up
‘Cause if you didn’t, you wouldn’t get enough
I’m sure you’ve heard this song before
But we sing ‘cause the wine’s all been poured
And as the ground evades in cracks
I wish they’d return back
The city decays, it’s been overrun
By thieves and liars and petty drunks
Who would have thought that at our end
The movers and builders’d be artists and friends
When there’s no one left to build the tower
The people there collapse and scatter
I wish I was a better man
Someone who cared, and had more friends
But that’s not our lot, babe, I’m telling you now
The worthless punks have faded, lightened brows
And furrow them the workers fade
They worship death ‘cause life’s been made
I don’t think I’ve much more to say
But it don’t matter, because ‘the radio does play’
And plays and plays and plays
The corporation’s tired phrase
summer night on south laurel street
nobody's vacant, complacent or drunk
i walk from my house to the whore's house and i see you laying there
half-naked and high
and you told me to stay for a little while
and I asked you how much to pay and you said it was free this time
your teeth are white and mine are yellow but it doesn't matter though, i guess i'm beautiful in my own way laying on the yellow bed with you at this house thinking about the girls at school who were just like you
And then I think about the girls out there who might be pretty and do their own hair and don't wear high heels or are gorgeous I mean who the fuck wants to be gorgeous if all you are is a whore for new shoes
summer night on south laurel street, somebody's vacant, complacent, and drunk and it's not me, not this time, anyway
she comes back to my house and we kiss over wine and I take her to my room and we're doing just fine until I wake up and realize my watch is gone; yeah a whole lot of other things are gone, too
I still remember her white teeth and the way she looked at me, like she was crazy about me, somehow I don't feel used
credits
released July 23, 2013
recorded at BoyzHouse June/July 2013
by Ben Foster
album artwork by John Winn
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