Carl Hauck
Rooster
The haze of coffin nails and the scent of liquid nerveSwirl through the vacant garden rowsThe verb coils warm as the check, check, checkerReigns in his ersatz troubadour clothesThe ivory is stale as the companyChestnut roots and fifths bled dryThe tired minstrel turns out uninspired wordsOf hope and change and other statist liesCue the garbled sketch of an overpass arenaWhere Rooster croons for an audience of twoPassing pairs of headlights make for transient marqueesAnd the stars guide his fingers in those rusty twelve-bar bluesThey start with pilfered wives, then slide to maudlin sighsFor his only son who married a machineHe flails his head about as his voice grows loudBut nothing comes to mind for the turnaroundSo he says whoa whoa whoa whoa, don't wanna settle downLeft with the slurred advice ?don't depend on anyone,?I slowly nod, but purge it from my brain,Assure myself that it's too late, it's too late for thatAnd hope to all that's holy that won't change
Aus Songtexte Mania