ist - King Martha - Released 2005
Death & The Songwriter
He put the children to bed early
And laid a change of clothes upon the bed
Ripped the phone out of its socket
And double-checked the goldfish had been fed
There’ll be no game of chess
No hand of cards
It’s felt this easy
He’s never been this hard
Death and the Songwriter have made up
Death and the Songwriter have made up
He wrote a letter to his lover
“Better this than our mouths filled with lead”
A single grave will take less tending
Than the furies circling my head
There’ll be no candles lit,
No Latin phrase intoned
There’ll be no deal struck
To keep his home sweet home
Death and the Songwriter have made up
Death and the Songwriter have made up
The clock won’t strike the midnight hour
As he is safely overpowered
Cause its not rattling chains
The television drowns
Just the sound of one man tuning out
And in the jostle for position
In the endless queue to take the blame
The rush of morbid fascination
Eradicates all memory of his name
They’ll toast his cowardice
With fugues and Irish airs
Glory doled out by the shot
To his abandoned cares
Death and the Songwriter have made up
Death and the Songwriter have made up
Death and the Songwriter have made up
Death and the Songwriter have made up
(c) 2005 ist
Lyrics: Hall Music: Hall/Haynes/McCourt/Ilett
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