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lyrics

they’re kicking out the cancer from the Queen street bars
now I don’t know where I’m stumbling, but I know it’s far

with twenty four dead soldiers swimming in my bones
and twenty six blocks fishing quarters from the phones
when I’m all outta words I use sticks and stones
and when last call comes I’m left

with black butterflies...
black butterflies...

she was swaying on the corner with a stake in her heart
and a stack of yellow letters in a shopping cart

with twenty four dead soldiers lined up in a box
and a few more holes than threads to her socks
you’re swear she’s an angel, the way that she talks
but when Sunday comes, she’s left

with black butterflies...
black butterflies...

the bags beneath her eyes, just as black as mine
a pair of ghosts tossing empties at the sky
they all shut their windows when we stumbled by
and butterflies...
those black butterflies...

she said “there’s nothing more godly than an atheist’s bed”
as she pulled another wing from the back of my head

with twenty four dead soldiers strung out in the hall
and twenty six shots behind a loose board in the wall
but I never tango as well as I crawl
and when the morning comes
when the morning comes I’m left

with black butterflies...
black butterflies...
those black butterflies...
black...
black butterflies...

credits

from Ghosts in the Pipes, released January 3, 2016
Jeff Giles: vocals, guitars
Brian MacMillan: bass
Will Armsrong: drums
produced by Jeff Giles
engineered, mixed & mastered by Andy Magoffin

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Jeff Giles Toronto, Ontario

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