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Créditos
PERFORMING ARTISTS
The Clientele
Performer
Alasdair MacLean
Vocals
James Hornsey
Bass
Mark Keen
Drums
Sebastian Millett
Cello
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Alasdair MacLean
Songwriter
James Hornsey
Songwriter
Mark Keen
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Brian O'Shaughnessy
Assistant Recording Engineer
Marco Pasquariello
Assistant Recording Engineer
Simon Nelson
Assistant Recording Engineer
Letras
After midnight, everybody left the houses for the Alice
She'd pelt the neighbors' windows when lookin' for a fight
She beckoned me towards her
She moved her fingers forward
The Jasmine blew and I just smiled
She said, "Where are you going?"
I said, "Nowhere you'd have heard of"
There's a cornfield by an avenue when all the clouds are still
A horse met on a ridgeway
Though he's imaginary
And over to the west, a king sleeps in the hill
It's kinda like when evening comes
The moment you aren't lookin'
And then you get the chills, but you know you're alive
And when she reached to kiss me
I knew there was no escaping
This kid set fires where the good smells drive
We went up to the Thames
Where she lived with her sister
And there, by the lamplight
She undressed without a smile
And I had no idea I'd be in bits and pieces
As I flowered through her skin
And she flowered through mine
I took her to the cornfield, I took her to the greenwood
I took her to the places I had loved as a child
And when at last I lost her in a bill-bucks on a hill
I threw some restless matches down into her path
The king's sleep is unbroken
The hospice window's open
At night, I dream of Oramorph and simple childhood games
And when I came back home
Somebody had left the lights on
And all that I am is changed
And the streets may tell the future
What birds choose in numbers
And they glide to the lines in the palm of your hand
It's a word you can't remember in the corner of your memory
It says that she loved you, but you don't understand
By the end of November
There was diesel in the gutters
And I'd made up my mind, I would head back south
The wind moved through the city
Through the palaces and priest halls
I packed my bags and I shut my mouth
Writer(s): Mark Nicholas Keen, James Mark Hornsey, Alasdair David Maclean
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