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Seven English Girls - Ron Pope



     
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Seven English Girls Lyrics


I drove eleven hundred miles to find a photograph I lost
It's just a Polaroid I used to keep of a girl that I once loved
And sleeping leads to nightmares 'cause I never can forget
So now I'm dreaming of Los Angeles as the winter closes in
I said I'm dreaming of Los Angeles as the winter closes inAnd we met seven English girls who asked if we'd like to see God
I'm not one for missed adventures so I answered with a smile
We spent the night on razor's edge
All innocence and sin
Now I'm strung out on the Bowery as the winter closes in
I said I'm strung out on the Bowery as the winter closes inAnd I won't cry if you can't love me like the way it used to feel
We had our summer on Long Island now there's wounds that never healAnd I won't cry if you can't love me like the way it used to feel
We had our summer on Long Island now there's wounds that never healI'd paint a picture of my mother but I can't recall her face
She's even far away at midnight and her laughter haunts my dreams
I ain't never been this broken
I've got nothing left to give
Now I'm searching for salvation as the winter closes in
I said I'm searching for salvation as the winter closes in
Man I'm searching for salvation as the winter closes inAnd I won't cry if you can't love me like the way it used to feel

We had our summer on Long Island now there's wounds that never healAnd I won't cry if you can't love me like the way it used to feel
We had our summer on Long Island now there's wounds that never healOh (x7)
No
Oh
Oh
OhNoOh
Oh
Oh

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Where should I start…these stories, my music, it comes from all the places I’ve been, the people I’ve been blessed to play music along side, the way it feels to play my guitar until it bleeds or to bang on that old piano in my living room until my shoulders ache and my fingers won’t move anymore. From Georgia to New York, New York to the road; Charleston and Memphis, Vermont to Chicago. Turned 21, then 22…released my first record with The District…Maine and Boston and who knows where else…made love in the grass and meant it…walked down Wilshire, blinking in the Los Angeles sun… got lost in Delaware scrambling to get home to my family after too much time…swam in the ocean with the boys, thanking God for purple and orange Florida sunrises. Soaked up New Orleans…tried to become Levon Helm; realized I wasn’t much of a drummer……turned 23. Wrote A Drop In The Ocean with Zach Berkman and then put it away for six months because I didn’t get it…fell in love…drank whiskey from the bottle and howled at the moon…released Last Call…played the blues back-to-back with Buz in Charlotte and just about everywhere else along that godforsaken highway…the van broke down…we fixed it…the van broke down again. Got lost heading to South Carolina and ended up in Alabama…fell out of love and hit my head on the way towards the bottom…turned 24…made a Christmas album, because, damn it, I like Christmas albums. Played big rooms…played small rooms …listened to Van Morrison and cried…listened to trains scream somewhere off in the distance on ink-black sleepless nights… I traced the outline of a woman’s face on a piece of paper; someone I loved and didn’t want to forget once we’d put the whole thing to bed. The picture didn’t turn out the way I’d hoped, so I took my ink-stained fingers and spelled her name out in big, smeared letters on my arm. I guess that’s all I’ve ever really had…my words. This music is the story of where I’ve been, who I am, and where I’m going…these songs are my life.

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Ron Pope