Mat d. and the Profane Saints: Music

• MP3 play whole song, hi-fi (broadband)

Guilt and the skeletons of the past creeping up on a lost soul inside the restaurant at the end of the world. Sometimes we remember, only to forget again how everything right goes wrong, which only conjurs up the ghosts of dead memories and lost love. Every sip of coffee like a bullet to the brain, tortured by a riddled past. Unable to let go.

Vinyl booth fades in the sunlight
chrome plated counter gone bad
coffee the color of dishwater bourbon
this cup like a gun in my hand
blonde as the bleach in the bucket
loose as the mop on the floor
nothing came easy when love came to town
and collapsed in pile at my door

I’d trace out a creed on your body
tied to a bedpost of steel
till the sheets turn the color of dishwater bourbon
as dark as the guilt that I feel
spitfire and truck stop religion
blackstrap molasses and cream
going to wreck this old Buick and burn every memory
like menthols or cheap gasoline

...and I’ll ride that old highway to Telstar tonight
wishing you weren’t the one in the back of my mind...

blonde as the bleach in the bucket
loose as the mop on the floor
nothing came easy when love came to town
and collapsed in pile at my door
Vinyl booth fades in the sunlight
chrome plated counter gone bad
coffee the color of dishwater bourbon
this cup like a gun in my hand