Black and White (7" Version) - Parquet Courts
Page format: |
Parquet Courts
Nothing makes my heart so wild as being<br /> In possession of a potent night<br /> Racing down the stairs in a nude descension<br /> Shedding and discarding my hide<br /> But the bold strokes crack so quickly<br /> And it's often that I wonder why<br /> Dripping at the slow-motion rate of surrender<br /> Hanging to my bones as they dry<br /> How can I want something more than a new hell in which to fry<br /> When I see in only black and white?There's a sinful sort of side of being<br /> So contained, a bit like being lost<br /> Stumbling through the background like a small town loner<br /> Quietly a-whisperin' my thoughts into my cupped hands<br /> Folded and monk-like, at least that's what I've always said<br /> How does writing letters from the lonely margins feel<br /> When there is no hair on my head?<br /> Is the solitude I seek a trap where I've been blindly led?<br /> Tell me, where then do I go instead?When atonement comes in distant waves<br /> I might wait until the next to break<br /> Choking through forgiveness at a sunfly prompter<br /> Staring through the back of my face<br /> Its a vulgar, hidden part of being tethered to the world right now;<br /> Spending all my dollars to remain a member<br /> Nothing in my eyes but a scowl<br /> Do I bother to define myself beyond what they allow?<br /> Have I already forgotten how?<br /> <br /> Song Discussions is protected by U.S. Patent 9401941. Other patents pending.Lyrics provided by TANCODEhttps://damnlyrics.com/" readonly=""/>
Black and White (7" Version) Lyrics
Nothing makes my heart so wild as being
In possession of a potent night
Racing down the stairs in a nude descension
Shedding and discarding my hide
But the bold strokes crack so quickly
And it's often that I wonder why
Dripping at the slow-motion rate of surrender
Hanging to my bones as they dry
How can I want something more than a new hell in which to fry
When I see in only black and white?There's a sinful sort of side of being
So contained, a bit like being lost
Stumbling through the background like a small town loner
Quietly a-whisperin' my thoughts into my cupped hands
Folded and monk-like, at least that's what I've always said
How does writing letters from the lonely margins feel
When there is no hair on my head?
Is the solitude I seek a trap where I've been blindly led?
Tell me, where then do I go instead?When atonement comes in distant waves
I might wait until the next to break
Choking through forgiveness at a sunfly prompter
Staring through the back of my face
Its a vulgar, hidden part of being tethered to the world right now;
Spending all my dollars to remain a member
Nothing in my eyes but a scowl
Do I bother to define myself beyond what they allow?
Have I already forgotten how?
Song Discussions is protected by U.S. Patent 9401941. Other patents pending.