Shank Godley ButcherLoose
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song created                                

Saturday, December 02, 2006 12:34:13 PM
song updated                               

Monday, August 25, 2008 12:08:22 PM
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I Like Strange. ~M~
IndieMusicPeople

 


from the album 'Harmonise'



The multiple personalities aren't the problem; it's whether or not they get along



Shank - Acoustic bass, string programming, vox

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Loose

Thought I’d shaken every villain
The dark thoughts in my mind
But they got loose again

I know they’re out to get me
I always look behind
Cause they’re all loose again
Their shackles are loosening

Someone must have testified
And got them all paroled
And they didn’t just walk free…
They strolled

And I dare not look at mirrors
To see their bent reflections
They’re all loose again

I check the glass for fingerprints
But they’re beyond detection
They’re all loose again
Their shackles loosening

The jury’s call was guilty
The maximum sentence
I watched them all file out
After they lost their weak defences

They bargained for my clemency
And dodged the falling blade
Like a fool I showed my empathy
Now I know that I got played

And who can say where the soul lives
It could be the body or the mind
And if the mind’s a house
Time to admit
I might be sharing mine

There’s nothing left to do
But face the facts
And right their little wrongs
And who can say
You never know
We might just get along

Friendly greetings in the hallway
Cook each other some scrambled eggs
Living life in a fucked up harmony

Thought I’d shaken every villain
The dark thoughts in my mind
But they got loose again

I know they’re out to get me
I always look behind
Cause they’re all loose again
Their shackles are loosening

I’m sure I locked the door
But there’s footsteps on the floor
Someone playing my acoustic
And humming in the hall

Never thought I’d hear those voices
Whispering profanity
They’re loose again

Thought I’d made the right choices
To purge all my insanities
They’re loose again
Shackles loosening

I should have slipped the hangman
A lobby and a sixpack
Cracked an 8-ball cross the counter
Celebrated their demise

I should have gripped the handle
And swung the blade myself
Cracked them open like an egg
To see the death in their eyes

And who can say where the soul lives
It could be the body or the mind
And if the mind’s a house
Time to admit
I might be sharing mine

There’s nothing left to do
But face the facts
And right their little wrongs
And who can say
You never know
We might just get along

Friendly greetings in the hallway
Cook each other some scrambled eggs
Living life in a fucked up harmony
Song Comments

I Like Strange. ~M~
Shank the Butcher is loose! A nice one. -M-


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