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That Crown Don't Make You a Prince - Murder by Death



     
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That Crown Don't Make You a Prince Lyrics


All the drunks in the alleys are takin' up arms to undo their whole lives in a day if their hearts they don't change before long in the heart of the beast they will lay he tears the wood from the walls to get to us he steals the good from this town so wash the black from your fingertips and fight raise up from the cellars fill the streets with his dead this time.

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Indiana's Murder by Death (formerly known as Little Joe Gould) layers the vocal sounds of an old saloon with the haunting strings of a Hungarian folk dance and the hard driving rhythms of pure rock 'n' roll, producing what Stuff magazine has called "lush, orchestrated songs," somehow simultaneously reminiscent of Johnny Cash and Radiohead. Added to that thick and intriguing sound are a series of dark and ironic lyrics, combining the mood and tone of Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds with the narrative force of The Decemberists or a short story by Nathaniel Hawthorne.

Read more about Murder by Death on Last.fm.


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Murder By Death