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Produced, mixed and mastered by Ricardo Tapia.
Song written by John Goodblood.
Performed by John Goodblood & The Vultures.
Some make it throwing darts at the dirt pile.
Some make it digging up broken bones.
Some fake it selling gin at the crossed mile.
“To those taking all those things that he owns.”
God rest beneath the warmest of blankets.
And I wake on top of a bed of coal.
This house ain’t full of nothing but bandits.
Awaiting every drop of the soul.
Try to pick me whole, Vulture. Here or in Muscle Shoals.
Torture me until my bones are sculptures.
Walking so discreet in the alley where they all meet.
Death on Basin Street.
Saint Peter put up a fence to hide heaven.
Then left this dying city behind.
Here on the 9th but gone on the 7th.
An army full of eyes left so blind.
Keep dancing to that rhythm, good Soldier.
But stay hid until the moonlights begun.
The night comes with the freaks growing colder.
They’re bringing every knife and each gun.
All these criminals live behind masks of political deceiving.
Is there anything at all to believe in?
Or should I take a seat. Watch her pass see her hand as she greets.
Another death on Basin Street.
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