Night of Criminals

Lyrics

Newspaper Boat

You're gonna leave, whoa you're gonna leave on a folded newspaper boat, on a ravenous sea. You're gonna leave, oh you're gonna leave. And when you go you'll write your manifesto down in the drying concrete. A burst of steam starts an odyssey. Your bags were packed in advance from a transcendental dream. A burst of steam, and from the very beginning. Spirits conversed to flesh and Earth, islands became the cemetery of possibilities. Fame and fortune cast their shadows then spoiled impure, evermore. Words that were electrified were burned as guides their ashes thrown overboard. You're gonna leave, woah you're gonna leave on a folded newspaper boat, on a ravenous sea. Whoa you’re gonna leave. This time between the "Stay or Goes?" feels like you're gone already. You’re gone already. You’re gone already.

Clockwork On and On

There's honest hunger on our tongues. Our tongues. And hands dripping honey, the swarm is coming from above. Above. Their sugar coats fall down like bombs and sting with precision. Like clockwork, on and on. I loosen these buttons the day was born to be undone. Undone. And the pigeons are flying overhead in unison. In unison. Revolving doors turn you back where you begun, a verge and foliot. Like clockwork, on and on. A phoenix rises with the sun. The sun. And a stark white airplane will bring you home. Bring you home. The only way to see how far we've come is go back where we started from. Like clockwork, on and on. Like clockwork, on and on. Like clockwork, on and on. Porch lights spun like toy tops in a whirling sea of coffee shops. My heart was the horizon but you wouldn't be outdone. No you wouldn't be outdone. No you wouldn't be outdone. No, no you wouldn't be outdone. Like clockwork, on and on.

Tar Washed Ashore

The mortar was a mixture of salt water and plastic flowers. We built a parapet on the riverbed. While bullets from the war hung in your crown, all adorned. Lightning struck the towers as they chimed out the hours. Rioting crowds shouted out loud. Tar washed ashore, and we wanted more. In the calm before the storm. The iron frame was laden with chains. They rattled like a wraith and called to us by name. The prism in the window shed light upon the widows and swung with the rhythm of the ocean as it bellowed. It split the sunshine into what's yours and mine. Our one true night hung like a satellite. Tar washed ashore. And we wanted more. In the calm before the storm.

Everyone on the Train Could Use Some Change

I tied my shoes with spray paint loops but the knots kept on coming loose. The crossing guard was smoking on the stoop, burning at the evening news. "I'm not young, there's no fountain of youth", heart beating hard in her fluorescent suit. I dragged those breathy blues across the avenue. Where a drug store horse will never quit shaking as long as I'm there jamming them quarters in. Raining change until it shakes the paint from your skin or I got nothing left to give. The cash machine said “drinks on me, just meet me at the candy coated trees”. This city's killing me with courtesy, "Empty out that vault, would you for me please?" Your soul burned a hole right through my jeans. I shouldn't take it so seriously. But everyone on the train could use a little change. A drug store horse will never quit shaking as long as I'm there jamming them quarters in. Raining change until it shakes the paint from your skin or I got nothing left to give.

Honeymoon

Ravaging the cardboard stacked Manhattans in our way. Up ruptured stairs of consequence, the hammers hammering the loose planks. Still you'll ascend uncharted steps, the auspicious airplane. Where wind carries perfumes and willows are whispering with new days. Still you're stacking papers on a coastline that's shaking loose. Shaking loose. Shaking loose. Howling at the honeymoon. Divining rod grasped in hand you walked diligently. Through patches of black clover and along the fields of grain. The truth awaits. Plaster walls are molded into mountains by the sea. A house of cards I built to live these in-betweens. Still you're stacking papers on a coastline that's shaking loose. Shaking loose. Shaking loose. Howling at the honeymoon. Howling at the honeymoon.

Tales as Tall

Oh, I heard the suspicion that through the woods lives something wicked. A gambit for passion in an abandoned mansion. In an abandoned mansion. With Victorian ornaments confining Simon the Sorcerer. And the gargoyles perched leading Helene through the woods. Tales as tall as the skies of tiger-striped twilight. On the night you arrived.

Union Chains

Pinching pennies as saviors and casting horseshoes. On the open road the bell jar broke, the storm started blowing right on through. It cast my life into orbit, now the world is split in two. Back home in a boarded market the stained glass scattering the room. The shopkeeper swept the leaves out into the street with a broom. Every exit was brilliant on this faultline. Every goodbye advice worth taking, but I never try. Every twist was a reason to bring you with me, but not this time. All that mattered was up those narrow stairs. Through the darkness and the girl trapped in the mirror. Oh I know there's cardboard boxes suspending the time in air. Back home in your apartment you wait for the rain. The shopkeeper bound the wreckage with a chain and then he walked away. Every exit was brilliant on this faultline. Every goodbye advice worth taking, but I never try. Every twist was a reason to bring you with me, but not this time. But not this time. But not this time.

Second hand Jackets

Stray cats masquerading in chiaroscuro paintings. There's a hole so deep in the pavement I wonder how many layers are beneath it? Suddenly demons of antiquity illuminate the construction machines and they pierce my pockets for change. Relics still in fashion, our second hand jackets. But the warehouses are abandoned under the towering expansion. And as they grow, so too shadows. A playground for the vagrants. Three Kings are parading and I for one am waiting. For the ashes and straw that remain there. I lost everything in your hypnotic stare.

One Night Stand on a Cadmium Yellow Avenue

We tore the books off of the shelves , we can't keep to ourselves. Burst like roman candles into a night of criminals. The butcher shop wore of a coat of arms , we drove like cocaine in that car. An oracle is standing in the wake of a rising sea of change. She said, "wishes to wine could take some time so tonight we're drinking moonshine". On bullet trains without our names, they'll never matter anyway. And the skyscrapers are looking the other way. We climbed a mile high of cement to a warehouse world the bleeding reds. Against the chalk white filament shone apparitions in the bed. On South 3rd there's fireworks the phantom rider wings unfurl setting fire to an unsuspecting world, oh no! And the skyscrapers are looking the other… And the skyscrapers are looking the other… And the skyscrapers are looking the other way. The other way. The other way.

Last One Left

They tore down an eyesore in less than an hour, and the dust rose like the Eye of God in a chemical flower. That broken space is my broken offering. The snaking headlamps on the black epitaph read "Once you're gone, you don't ever come back". The pouring rain is filling in the graves. So we cast a rose and it's thorns as a building blueprint is drawn. Bicycle stalemates sit chained to railings, those mismatched patterns of oxidized marriage. And rattled bones still turning house to home. Summer gushes with brand new haircuts. Pinstripe tuxes in playground portraits. The scaffolding set for the last one left. Well I'm gonna get my feet wet. Dance with your whirlwind wedding dress. Be the last one left.

Bled Red Wine

The lost and found is back in my hometown. Where a universe of sound amounts to dust on a shelf. In a psychedelic hell the souls pass by but cannot be held. Just one drink from the well romances all that falling out. I heard through the grapevine that you were beautiful at the bar last night. I hope you had a great time blushing while you bled red wine. Bloody Mary in the ground back in my hometown. Under a mountain of doubt, built up to settle down. Across the canal the iron roads are running parallel the toy wooden horses and summertime soldiers are burning on that carousel. You bled red wine. You bled red wine.