Words

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

©2012, La Petite Tempête Recording & Publishing, contact info(a)gabrielssonmare.se

Words - Comb the Wicked

Washington Avenue

 

To hell with God, to hell with prayers

To hell with Jesus and his twelve apostles

There is only one thing I know

I will come back and haunt you

 

To hell with Beelzebub, to hell with sacrifice

To hell with all fallen angels

There is only one thing I know

I will come back and haunt you

 

When you lay me down to rest

Cut off my hair and tie it

Into a medallion and keep it

Close to your heart

 

To hell with science, to hell with facts

To hell with all masters, to hell with all rules

There is only one thing I know

I will come back and haunt you

 

 

Indian Summer

 

In between fall and winter, there’s a window

Rich in color, warm on the skin

Indian Summer

 

In New York night is falling

Summer lingers in New York

 

In the warm city night

The air stood still in between the building

Nighttime music was playing

We danced oh so close

You touched my arm, touched my heart

Held me so close my head was spinning

A scent of love

In the warm city night

 

In Manhattan looking over boroughs painted gold

The East River’s running colder

Days are getting shorter now

 

In New York night is falling

Summer lingers in New York

 

 

 

Dig Real Deep

 

Take a shovel in your hand, roll up your sleeves

You’ve got to dig real deep, dig ‘til your hands bleed

 

The bleeding is a sign, when you bleed like Jesus bled

A light behind all lies, absolvement deep inside

 

Take a shovel in your hand, roll up your sleeves

You’ve got to dig real deep, dig ‘til your hands bleed

 

How far is it to heaven? How deep down is hell?

When the Devil’s in your backyard?

The Devil’s in your backyard

 

Take a shovel in your hand, roll up your sleeves

You’ve got to dig real deep, dig ‘til your hands bleed

 

Wolves

 

From the woods a wind comes howling

Five hundred claws, the beat of hunting

 

In the dark you feel them breathing

Led by stars you know they’ll find you

 

And I hear them coming, hear them closing in on me

And I feel the moonlight, feel the moonlight changing me

 

Step the earth, the drum beneath our feet

Hunt for blood, the drum within our hearts

 

 

Hard Times

 

It’s a cool night, I’m without a fire

There’s a hard wind, making up a choir

It does not sooth me, the song the wind sings

 

It starts in the mountains, and rolls down hill

Building up power, building up speed

It does not sooth me, the song the wind sings

 

Oh times are getting harder

 

Making me hollow, keeping me cold

This dark choir, numbing my body

It’s getting louder, the song the wind sings

 

Oh times are getting harder

 

Oh you have to walk taller

Oh you have to get stronger, shout louder

 

 

 

Brooklyn Bridge

 

Bricks holding steel

I know how it feels

Wires holding on to

The weight of fifteen thousand tons

 

I feel the East River flowing

The grayish green throbs and burns

Washing the city of its sins

Taking all dirt out to the sea

 

Clouds turning black

Resting heavy on my back

I tried to hold on to

The weight of fifteen thousand tons

 

 

 

 

Comb the Wicked

 

Please forgive me, for I have sinned

I’ve been stealing, I’ve been lying

Filled with envy, I’ve been unkind

Please, rid the wicked out of my mind

 

Dreams and fire kept my demons fed

Kept them warm in winter, nesting on my head

Ties and tangles, knots that grow

Please, rid the wicked out of my soul

 

Better start working, better comb out the wicked

 

Have me punished, like the good book tells

For I am Sampson, I am Jezebel

Relief I need it, like a breath of air

Please, comb the wicked out of my hair

 

Better start working, better comb out the wicked

 

 

 

Been Losing Sleep

 

I’ve been loosing sleep

No earth beneath me, no earth beneath my feet

I keep on falling and I keep losing sleep

 

But there is nothing to complain about

Nothing to figure out

 

But I been losing sleep

Too many questions, no rights, no wrongs

Nothing to hold on to

And I keep losing sleep

 

But there is nothing to complain about

Nothing to figure out

When you feel you’re in control is when you realize

You feel nothing at all