Testo Body of Work - B. Dolan feat. Alias
Testo della canzone Body of Work (B. Dolan feat. Alias), tratta dall'album Fallen House Sunken City
Her story is getting old
In a night with no company
Posted by the phone so uncomfortably
Gnawing at her thumb till it bleeds
She's in the way but out of shape
The money makes her wait
The waitress looks away and makes a face
Staring at the empty plate
Drift away
Shifty, agitated
Frustration and despair
Silent phone and lonely rage
Why isn't he here
We had a date
For Christ's sake
The corner's colder than the tomb
The city air is empty
I live in God's country
I let the devil tempt me
Drowning in a wishing well
Surrounded in a living hell
These people think they're better than me
But I've got bellies to feed
And their dress is too expensive
And their movies are made
I do for you, you do for me
It's a mutual exchange
It feels like desperate need
Three hours later he finally texted me
Lost his nerve, maybe next week
Another deadbeat
Another drop of poison on my tongue
Another cloud of smoke to fill my lungs
Rough kisses smudge the paint on my lips
Hungry stomachs and tight fists
Hollow bones, bruised nerves
I sound a knee alert
In a body of work
In a body of work
In a body of work
In a body of work
They promised her to the dirt
In her body
The city is a blister
Splitting open wide
A rotted shell of an insect
Laid out on its side
A little death
A hot white spotlight paints the darkness with our
Silhouettes
I haven't met the numbers in my head and
Came home yet
Instead I'm slouched against the post of the fence
Posing for them to pose a threat and hold me by the neck
Approaching next to slack jaws and back roads
Who get what they ask for
The dashboard glows
I tug at my clothes
I try to act casual
I tell them what it costs to rob me
They look me up and down and then we bargain over
Parts of my body and mind
Separate
The hour is getting late
The lost time
Dividing dollar signs before my eyes
I should have sized them up better
But it's a long drive at the end of a off night
And they seem alright
I never ask too many questions
Visit an intersection to slip from the city's memory
And what do you get?
Another drop of poison on my tongue
Another cloud of smoke to fill my lungs
Rough kisses smudge the paint on my lips
Hungry stomachs and tight fists
Hollow bones, bruised nerves
I sound a knee alert
In a body of work
In a body of work
In a body of work
In a body of work
In a body of work
In her body
Credits
Writer(s): Brendon Whitney, Bernard Dolan
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