Real Dirt

Real Dirt

I walk the streets alone at night
Fires of hell beneath my feet,
Weight of Heaven pushing down on me
Heaven’s whores are everywhere spinning webs of silent prayer
To fine for any naked eye to see

The concrete Saint of solitude cries
Bitter tears on golden roofs
That sting and stain and scar before they’re through
And real dirt and real sins that screech like broken violins
Can’t wait to get their needles into you

I walk the streets alone at night, I don’t believe in ghosts
But if I did I’d have to say that they were here
Down among the vagabonds, the lonely and the fallen ones
The only ones with nothing left to fear

This day is done up in a shroud
The moon just went behind a cloud
And had its throat cut from ear to ear
The haunted face of suffering contorts into an obscene grin
And asks “Just what the hell you’re doing here?”

The night is young the world is old
Our hearts have never been so cold
A drop of something strong to warm the blood
Sticky, sweet, dark and slim, she offers up the medicine
With breath that reeks of violets and gin

Her dress is old, her coat is thin
The history book that is her skin
Hides secrets that by dawn could not be kept
And everything here’s counterfeit
It’s just the way the place is lit
Somehow it makes it easier to accept

I walk the streets alone at night,
Fires of hell beneath my feet,
Weight of Heaven pushing down on me
Heaven’s whores are everywhere,
Spinning webs of silent prayer
Too fine for any naked eye to see

The concrete Saint of solitude cries
Bitter tears on golden roofs
That sting and stain and scar before they’re through
And real dirt and real sins that screech like broken violins
Can’t wait to get their needles into you

Real dirt and real sins like real fools and real men
Don’t wait to be invited to go in
Real dirt and real sin like real fools and real men
Don’t wait to be invited to go in