Clementine

 

Cold Snap

(Francis Bakin, 2009)

 

It’s a cold snap

In the shoulder season

A bitch slap of a wind is freezing

No tell motel hanging out by the door

I’d lie and say I ain’t been here before

Young men waiting on the blacktop

Old men coming for the whistlestop

Snow plow churning up the snapshots of the last seen

Why is the light so mean

 

Old man looking for another scheme

Young girl looking for another dream

Or maybe not dreaming maybe just hanging around

My mind is living on the darker edge of town

 

How can I worry bout lonesome

When my body is living in Babylon

And the knock on the door is an atom bomb

What drives men on

What drives men on

 

I’m empty again on the chopping block

The sun is shining it’s freaking me out

In the shoulder season it should burn out

Why won’t the light burn out

Why won’t the light burn out

This cold snap is wearing me out

 

How can I worry bout lonesome

When my body is living in Babylon

And the knock on the door is an atom bomb

What drives men on

What drives men on

 

My hope is hung on the handle of the door

No tell motel don’t disturb anymore

It’s the shoulder season I ain’t been here before

 

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