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The Tremors

from Spirit Level by Andrew Floss

/

lyrics

Right at the epicentre
There is poorly handwritten letter
In an ancient foreign tongue

Climb in the mouth and burn the roof
I’m the undead, I’m living proof
And everyone's calling shotgun
---
A bed south of the river
The only move we make is a shiver
When the street lights all go out
In candlelight and candledark
With barely anything but sparks
And the tremors of self-doubt

---
And in all the places that we’ve been
Through the fat, the thick, the thin
Right there, underneath the skin
Like a parasitic twin
---
Up in the north and east
You can find a bit of peace
Pulling colours from an ocean of offcuts
But in the wild west,
you’re an iron lung
catching its breath
Just enough to spill your guts
--
Once in a while, we’ll stop making fists
Place two shaking fingertips over the wrist
--
Once in a while, stop making fists
Placing two fingertips over the wrist
Cause sometime ago it stopped making sense
To sit on your tail or sit on the fence

credits

from Spirit Level, released October 21, 2019
Salwa Azar: cello
Lottie Bowater: accordion
D Manship: clarinet

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

Andrew Floss London, UK

"It's a graveyard smash"

- Matt Hutson, comedian and fleece-owner

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