Jolie Holland, Sage Francis - Black Out on White Night lyrics

[Jolie Holland, Sage Francis - Black Out on White Night lyrics]

"It was too good to last, he thought
Might as well have been a dream
He thought"

The lights are out, the phones are dead
And I'm the only thing that's
Running in this city
Except for the clouds and man
They're coming down
If I knew my way around
I wouldn't feel so dizzy
Where's the telly? Nobody can tell me
I don't speak a lick of that
Language and got a slippery memory
If I spelled it all out on my arm, only if
But I didn't, so I think, "Get a grip, kid
Deal with it"
Baby's waiting for a ring and won't settle
For the substitute excuse that's forming
I've got a complicated case of escapism
For her, I tried to rewire my nature


Too tired to wake her up
Out of that artificial calm she was on
A drug-induced future that slipped
Out of her palms seductive rain dancer
She thinks I'm waterproof
Like Superman doesn't need a
Roof over his head
When I come home to roost I'll
Need truth to hold in bed
But I'm seeking salvation in a booth
And the phones are dead
And the lights are out
And I'm the only thing that's
Living in this ghost town
Except for the clouds and man
They're coming down
If I knew my way around by now
I'd be bound for home
Black out on white night in Rome
Black out on white night in Rome

I know that I'm in love
But I know I'm out of touch
And I know that I get dumb
When I can sense something's up
And then I bottom out, European tailspin
Scrawling messages out on my pale skin
In hopes they get mailed in
Before the ink poisoning takes effect
And it gets smudged 'cause I
Budge before letting paint set
I get judged by the ones who
Have shelter and rain checks
While I trudge through the mud
'cause this foreign terrain's wet
Regain consciousness, then lose common sense
The ominous, dark skies that lie between me
And Providence are signs
The obvious answer isn't standing on
Your face with stilettos on
If you pop the question wrong
Every song's a post afterthought
I won't grab the chalk to
Outline my body of work
Toe tags get caught in my teeth 'cause
My foot is in my mouth
And the spurs are in my words
So my tongue can't dismount
Even after our rapport had
Fully run it's course
Couldn't figure out the most heroic time
To jump from the horse
And place this old hat for the
Last time on the coat rack
But I'd donate all of my earnings from
The race just to know that
Resisting urges to go back and get it later
Like the milk would unsour
It'self in the refrigerator
A wet boy in a dry, dry state
On an old country road where
Tradition has a blind date
I'll make it dance on it's own grave tonight
With a change of direction
By the pale moonlight
And if it needs theme music
I'll break out the bagpipes
And play a tune you ghostwrote me in
A past life that goes like

Black out on white night in Rome
Black out on white night in Rome
Black out on white night in Rome
Black out on white night in Rome

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