Альбом The Low Anthem

On my way home, by that lonesome graveyard
On my way home, by that lonesome graveyard

A ghost jumps up and says 'Come on, be my man'
No ghost at all, someone asking for a ride
No ghost at all, someone asking for a home
She says 'Come here boy and take me, to your room'

That young ghost woman, she keeps, she keeps me thin
That young ghost woman, she keeps, she keeps me thin
She spends all the money I make on the L & N
I ain't no lamp, but my wick is burning low

I ain't no lamp, but my wick is burning low
Better light me up another before I go
On my way home, by that lonesome graveyard
On my way home, by that lonesome graveyard
A ghost jumps up and says 'Come on, be my man'

I met her down
At the apothecary
With sad sad eyes
The burden she carried

Oh darlin' try this one
If you need a friend
I've got the cure for
The shape that you're in

When you met me you were numb
From the voice in your head
Conspiracy, delusions
That your boyfriend kept fed

Oh I swear I want nothin'
Just give me your hand
I've got the cure for
The shape that you're in

Your saccharin luster
She's a hard little pill
She eased me and taught
My hands to be still

Just once in the morning,
Evening again
She had the cure for
The shape I was in

Since I met her down
At the apothecary
Her sad sad eyes
The burden she carried

Oh darlin' try this one
If you need a friend
I've got the cure for
The shape that you're in

All delusions of grandeur
They long left my head
As I rode off the notion
That I've been well bread

First she shot me with whiskey
Then she chased me with gin
Swore I was the cure for
The shape she was in

Then she left me, reeling,
With that time release feeling
Like a low whisper thunder
I hung from the ceiling

So if you see me down
At the apothecary again
I can't find the cure
For the shape that I'm in

Since I met her down
At the apothecary
Her sad sad eyes
The burden she carried

Oh darlin' try this one
If you need a friend
I've got the cure for
The shape that you're in

I was in the air when the towers came down
In a bar on the 84th floor
I bought Philippe Petit a round
And asked what his high wire was for
He said, “I put one foot on the wire,
One foot straight into heaven”
As the prophets entered boldly into the bar
On the Boeing 737, Lord, on the Boeing 737
Hey little bird, would you be the one
To nest beneath my Gatling gun?
There’s nothing left I call my own
Come down and build me a home.

I was in a bar when they rigged the towers
Trying to leave all my sins
The barmaid asked my order
And where my mind had been
I tried to recall the high wire
Philippe and his foot in heaven
As the prophets entered boldly into the bar
On the Boeing 737, Lord, on the Boeing 737
Hey little bird, would you be the one
To nest beneath my Gatling gun?
There’s nothing left I call my own
Come down and build me a home.

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Did I burn each last bit of myself
Did I turn my back on the kid in myself
And tear the oldest root
In a charlatan's pursuit
And the world drifting father away

On the run with nowhere to ride
The black angel still clings to my side
You know he's faster than
Any man
And the world drifting father away

What I told you lover I guess that I meant
By the time that you read this I will have repented
I know I am a fool
For trying to play it cruel
And you played so much kinder than I

Your memory know is the shadow to my shadow
I wind it tight like a player piano
Your skirt above your knees
I watch you press the keys
It calms the smarting flesh
Of the wound we have undressed

If still there's a song deep in this marrow
Who lets you draw that last shivering arrow
What kind of smarting loon
Believes that he can shoot the moon
Calm these frailing nerves
They ask to be preserved

I was ashamed and mute
Fumbling around for my parachute
Then gliding through the rain
Not a drop could leave its stain
And the world drifting farther away

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