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December's Traditions (Live at Barrowlands)December's traditions suck the last of summer from our cheeksDraws the curtains, strips the trees In so-called living rooms, Scottish pastimes come to roost Love's labor's stain a linen sheet The ghostly body who makes his bed beside you Is slowly losing teeth The boy needs sunlight and the shock of modesty He needs to get some sleep It's not the answer; sticking plaster on a shattered bone What do you need, what do you need from me It's not the answer; treatin' cancer like a cold What do you need, what do you need from me? After months of grieving, fuck the grief I'm leaving Will you leave with me? The blood loss, the towering cost Mouth to mouth, tongue to tongue The lick brings warm metallic taste I can't correct myself, convince you That there's no one else in volumes of new muse If you want a safe, you don't want me It's not the answer; sticking plaster on a shattered bone What do you need, what do you need from me? It's not the answer; treatin' cancer like a cold What do you need, what do you need from me? It's not the answer, I'm just begging to be told What do you need, what do you need from me If I had the answer, write a book of what I know What do you need, what do you need from me? |