Because It is A Holiday

well, Grace she's gone, she's a half-written poem
she went out for cigarettes and never came home
and I swallowed the sun and screamed and wailed
straight down to the dirt so I could find her trail
spread out across the Great Divide

well, I just came to talk, Saint Valentine
I never pictured you living here with the rats and the vines
ain't that my old heart hanging out on your lines
you're all fucked up, Saint Valentine

now I circle the bars on the promenade
while the girls in the glass, they're just throwing me shade
and I'm saving my coins up for Jingling Jane
she's out plucking strings in the pouring rain

see I'm all crooked feet, Saint Valentine
I've circled this map till it caught on fire
now Grace she's left you just skin and bone
well, you hang up your hat, but you can't call it home
you've tried and you've tried, but you can't call it home
you're the loneliest one, Saint Valentine
you're the loneliest one, Saint Valentine
you're all fucked up, Saint Valentine

- Gregory Isakov, Saint Valentine

all of my heroes sit up straight
they stare at the ground
they radiate

me, I'm mumbling in the kitchen for the sun to pay up
lonely is a ring on a cold coffee cup
I'm some sick hound
digging for bones
if it weren't for second chances, we'd all be alone

my hands they were strangers lost in the night
they're waving around in the dusty light
I'm waiting in the wings while the trees undress
cupping my ear to hear the wind confess
I'm a ghost in the garden
scaring the crows
if it weren't for second chances, we'd all be alone

I'm running from nothing, no thoughts in my mind
oh my heart was all black
but I saw something shine
thought that part was yours, but it might just be mine
I could share it with you, if you gave me the time
I'm all bloody knuckles, longing for home
if it weren't for second chances, we'd all be alone

I'm a shot through the dark
I'm a black sinkhole
if it weren't for second chances, we'd all be alone

- Gregory Iskaov, Second Chances

you were a phonograph, i was a kid
i sat with an ear close, just listening
i was there when the rain tapped her way down you face
you were a miracle…i was just holdin your space

well time has a way of throwing it all in your face
the past, she is haunted, the future is laced
heartbreak, ya know, drives a big black car
swear i was in the back seat, just minding my own

and through the glass, the corn crows come like rain
they won’t stay, they won’t stay
for too long now

this could be all that we know..
of love and all.

well you were a dancer, i was a rag
the song in my head, well was all that i had
hope was a letter i never could send
love was a country we couldn’t defend.

and through the carnival we watch them go round and round
all we knew of home was just a sunset and some clowns

well you were a magazine, i was a plane jane
just walking the sidewalks all covered in rain
love to just get into one of your stories
just me and all of my plane jane glory

- Gregory Isakov, Big Black Car