Gold Fronts

Gold Fronts - Portugal. The Man

The sun bent down and spoke

With the last lips

They spoke of hell and things

They knew they'd never miss

Bridge shelter and the cold creek bed

That breaks backs and leads eyes down

Faces drag against the dirt

And the ears should be living this muddy sound

Where the white whales roll just once a year

Arms feed the hatchet with an african appetite

Matched machetes sparkle shine

And shape that small scale guillotine

I've been getting pretty sleeping

In these boxes

The blackened mule faces outside my door

Shouting

Shouting

Shouting

Shouting

Oooohhhh

Oooohhhh

The club met the seal and the seal met the dog

That carried the man to the end of the trail

Where they

Walked down the streets

Pavement black beneath their feet

I

Have a little trouble

With these black glass lungs

I

And dealing in the man with the gold tooth grin

I

I've been

Pretty sleeping in these boxes

The blackened mule faces outside my door

Shouting

Shouting

Shouting

Shouting

Oooohhhh

Oooohhhh

Oooohhhh

Oooohhhh

I've been getting pretty sleeping in these boxes

The blackened mule faces outside my door

Shouting

Shouting

Shouting

Shouting

Ooohhh ooh ooh ohh ohh

Ooohhh ooh ooh ohh ohh

Ooohhh ooh ooh ohh ohh

Ooohhh ooh ooh ohh ohh

Ooohhh ooh ooh ohh ohh

Oohh