"That vision of fucked-up perfection can’t remember my name and I only want to hold her and have her feel the same."
A song about the year punk broke, when a lot of pretty boys were shot in their sleep. This version is from the Broad Daylight demo sessions.
complete lyrics in comments
Another song from these sessions ("Colonial War") is on the Nylon Mustang page.
3 comments:
Chapel Hill
by Martin Galloway
I woke up in the garbage, got really trashed last night
some sweet little sanitation engineer picked me up right.
So I thanked God for small victory and made the sign of the cross
I was king of her little hill before she tossed me off.
Now that vision of fucked-up perfection can’t remember my name
and I only want to hold her and have her feel the same.
I can’t believe my own stupidity, the things I do for thrills
rolling all the way down Chapel Hill.
There’s no reward for sincerity in this wicked little scene
forgive my every weakness and bless me in between.
Now I speak in fuzz tones, nothing to confess
a clear night full of stars is only looking up heaven’s dress.
And that vision of fucked-up perfection can’t remember my name
and I only want to hold her and have her feel the same.
I can’t believe my own stupidity, the things I do for thrills
rolling all the way down Chapel Hill.
Let’s bow our heads in a moment of meditation.
Get down on your knees and pretend that you’re in prayer.
While Dr. Love fills you with medication
and a little buzz to prove that she was there.
Now I’m down on the bottom, looking up at the top
I know it’s never over, I’m never gonna stop.
The myth of hardcore destiny is nothing but a dare
I know I’m gonna climb on again just because it’s there.
And that vision of fucked-up perfection can’t remember my name
and I only want to hold her and have her feel the same.
I can’t believe my own stupidity, I guess I never will
roll me one more time down Chapel Hill.
Rolling all the way down Chapel Hill . . . (repeat and fade)
© 2005 Martin Galloway
Nice to have you back .....
Thanks!
xoxo, ashley
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