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They shoot horses, don't they?

from s​/​t by wildmen

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lyrics

We’re out of bluster when the lights come up, the crowd starts shifting towards the door. So raise your glass and try to force a laugh, ‘cause in the morning this’ll hurt. They were the golden girls of yesteryear. We used to be those good-time boys. But we got lost somewhere, we grew up, and now we play musical chairs. And the band plays the last chords of a song they’re sick of singing, the last dancers, trying to stay on their feet.

...and I’ve been riding that fine line again, between righteousness and sin. In dreams, I burn down that no-tell motel cathouse that you’ve been living in. And I’ve got papers for the border, and I could make it there by dawn, so one last drink and one last cigarette, and I’ll decide before I’m done. And the band plays the last chords of a song they’re sick of singing, the last dancers, trying to stay on their feet. Well, they shoot horses, don’t they, when they turn into meat? I kinda wish they’d do the same for you and me.

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from s​/​t, released November 20, 2012

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wildmen regina, Saskatchewan

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