Pete Francis - Crooked Bones lyrics

A plastic bag and an empty cart Is all that's left of a lonely heart That once was carved into a park bench In Father Demo's square Cars drive by like schools of fish Turn a blind headlight to those who wish They can swim to a shore where the moonlight Glistens in their soft and silver hair A compact mirror. the gla** is broken In the middle of a subway token Is a muttered whisper softly spoken of what you used to own Now all that's left is your crooked bones Crooked bones, crooked bones Every one of us has grown Crooked bones, crooked bones Live in houses made of stones Down below old Minetta Street There runs an ancient quiet stream There's a few who know beneath their feet It dreams a quiet love Under spray epitaphs and cryptic signs and cement slabs Adheres the cries and screams and laughs of the revelers above While pedestrians and private hells Denied the paradise of bells Can hear the bubbling wishing well That tells you, you are home All they hear is the crooked bones Crooked bones, crooked bones Every one of us has grown Crooked bones, crooked bones Live in houses made of stones Now late at night you can hear the roars Of garbage trucks likes dinosaurs Howling from the distant shores of 7th avenue Sirens scream with all their might Across the airwaves of the night And beamed as if by satellite into your own bedroom And they resonate in me Magnetic rhyming imagery Whose sounds again makes clear to me What I have always known I love every one of your crooked bones Crooked bones, crooked bones Every one of us has grown Crooked bones, crooked bones Live in houses made of stone