We’ve updated our Terms of Use to reflect our new entity name and address. You can review the changes here.
We’ve updated our Terms of Use. You can review the changes here.
/

lyrics

I left by the backdoor and stumbled out into the night and onto the street.
The pavement shined in the rain and the moon was the color of the hotel bar toilet seat.
There are never any stars in this town.
The sidewalks are empty and the leaves rustle up the block in the indian summer heat.

Down Broad, up Main, Left onto Fox Hill Lane,
I slink like a skunk into the corners of town.
A van pulls onto Lincoln place and turns it’s high beams down.
My luck’s about to change.
Someday soon I’ll be wearing a different crown.

Pacing from street to street, block to block, maybe 10 maybe more.
I think of you in that yellow dress, I think of the coming fall and the way things were before.
The night spills on and on.
Sometimes you have to wonder who’s minding the store.

Do you still drink the wine I sent you
In the house where we once lived.
When I called you knew I meant you.
What could be so hard to forgive.

Down by the arcade and the shut down shooting range
The painted angels on the merry go round look down accusing and strange.
And a neon sign blinks away the dust.
And behind glass the carnival prizes look out to the street through their pane.

People tell me things are clearer at a distance that you once held in doubt.
People often tell me things I wouldn’t know anything about,
But I know
Some things pass away unnoticed and some things you have to teach yourself to live without.

I listen to the sound of my feet echo of the high, abandoned warehouse walls.
Softly though the dark a nightbird calls.
The fog is thick.
The road narrows, the sidewalk ends.
I leave the town the town behind. I leave behind the laundromats and bars and the lowly tolling
early morning bells of St. Pauls.

When I’d blown my last lone cent you
said that love was just like water through a sieve.
When I called you knew I meant you.
What could be so hard to forgive?

Most nights I can hear the whistle of the Southern Bell as it goes by,
Bound for the gulf and new dreams, leaving the old spit up like smoke into an empty sky.
Maybe I’ll just get on and ride.
Maybe I’ll just get on and ride.
Maybe I’ll just get on and ride.

credits

from The Best Of The Bantam Years, released January 22, 2013
Pete Lanctot- Vocals, Guitar, Stroh Violin
Gene Perla- Bass
Paul Wells- Percussion

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

Pete Lanctot image

Pete Lanctot Brooklyn, New York

Pete Lanctot is a composer and songwriter based in Brooklyn, NY.

contact / help

Contact Pete Lanctot

Streaming and
Download help

Redeem code

Report this track or account

If you like Pete Lanctot, you may also like:

Bandcamp Daily  your guide to the world of Bandcamp

On Bandcamp Radio

Beans joins the show to discuss his album release, "ZWAARD".

listen now