Library Voices - John Farrell Buffalo lyrics

The bible props open a window On the second floor of a 2 star hotel 3 fingers of single malt in a coffee cup Praying morning never comes But a thrush is singing like a starlet Shadows are stretching like a harlot And we’re running out of cigarettes John Farrell Buffalo The Golden Age of radio We still believed in rock n roll There's an empty seat on a greyhound, Leaving the big smoke headed southbound. I'm listening to Forever Changes with your ghost, I won't burn my miracles. Curled up cowering like a comma, The pause before a broken promise (I won’t be daring from a distance) I’ll find myself a trade wind. Maybe Heaven doesn’t exist Maybe it never has Or maybe just for doubting it I’ll be damned