The streetlights dim as he walks by. Ill intent hangs in the air, hangs in the night. Hangs with the moon, dull, low and red. Shining down against blue and black glow overhead. Through empty streets and alleys to the sea; out to the tracks where the river meets. Flipping a coin walking tie to tie; a hardened broken man with a pusher’s pride. Waits on his sale, man of the cloth. Father is on a bend and on the outs with god. Out of the dark, a glowing cigarette. “I’ll take what you got man, I got it bad.” “How does it feel and what is it like to know the end is near? To lose all you love, your veins turned to dust, spend your days in fear?” Priest pulls him in, flashes a knife. Sullen light to the western sky. Ill intent hangs in the air, hangs in the night. Hangs with the moon, dull, low and red. Red as the blood, spilled warm and thick covering his hands. “I was little boy blue and next thing I knew, a teenager on a tenement roof. Now I confess the pain that happened in between. As I bleed out, you should know the reason I’ve been trying to drag you all to hell with me. No man born evil. No death; put my soul out to sea. Released from the sins of the flesh. I became evil when evil fell onto me.”
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
