Sunday.
Train it came a rollin' through the crescent city yard.
Girl was hoppin' on a freighter in the deep, hot, foggy dark.
Always looking for a place where she could lay that head at night.
As the neon haze left her far behind.
Maybe a fever had struck in the night.
The engine stops now.
The Earth was a twinkling stage.
Creature was sitting across from his fire.
Oh the vulture was cooking up his prey.
Sweetest child, you look just like you woke up from your funeral.
This old bird needs a creole chick like you.
In the night your dreaming eyes can break the ones around you.
The same curse has afflicted me all my life...
Cause bedlam's on my mind.
Wide eyes,
Tremble in her voice as she gathers up her things.
Grinning,
Feathers turn to flesh and his eyes did fade to green.
Bedlam, now a regal gent.
Silver hair and crimson tweed.
He said darlin' I got the things you need.
Faustian covenant made in the dark.
Dreary eyes now, they witness quite a sight..
Flick of the wrist, the old carriage approached.
Violet curtains and a kerosene light.
Sweetest child, you look just like you woke up from your funeral.
This old bird needs a creole chick like you.
Thought you was born under the worst kinda sign.
But girl the dream that afflicts you is a blessing divine.
So take a step in the fire, leave the shadows for good... yes it's time.
Cause Bedlam's on your mind.
Last days of magic are dim.
When the scavenger's singing the hymn.
So you got to cling to the crack in the ship.
Cause the hurricane's pulling us in.
credits
from Last Days of Magic,
released October 14, 2016
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Michael Jones - Trumpet - www.michaeljonesmusic.com
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