Jolson And Jones Lyrics - Drift - Scott Walker

As the grossness of spring lolls its head against the window 

As the grossness of spring lolls its bloodshot head 

Curare! Curare! Curare! 

Brogue cries from the street 

Curare! Curare! 

As the grossness of spring rose 

A tumor balloon to squeak against the window 

With the grossness of spring staining into the walls 

The chair had been shifted ever so slightly 

Say five feet or two centimeters 

The prints of my fingers dusted from doorknobs 

A lamp had been dimmed 

Some sawdust where a ring had been 

Where nice girls were turned into whores 

Gardens with fountains where peacocks had strutted 

Where deaf children were born 

The splendor of tigers turning to gold in the desert 

Pale meadows of stranded pyramids 

Sonny boy 

such a sonny boy 

There's a song in the air 

Curare! Curare! Curare! 

But the fair senorita don't seem to care 

Curare! Curare! Curare! 

As the grossness of spring lolls its head against the window 

As the grossness of spring lolls its bloodshot head 

I merely got up so slowly 

Shuffled across the floor 

Closed the door on the landing 

Descending the stairs 

Dipping into the street 

The paralysed street 

Brogue says "Good afternoon!" 

I say "Good afternoon!" 

"It's a lovely afternoon" 

"Yes, it's a lovely afternoon"I 

Into pockets unstitching so weighted with pins 

Into eyes imploding on mazes of sins 

The puddle beneath the cork 

Bobbing on a mild chop that rolled in 

Off the river Dix and the open water beyond 

Brogue says 

"I'LL PUNCH A DONKEY IN THE STREETS OF GALWAY" 

Then me 

"I'LL PUNCH A DONKEY IN THE STREETS OF GALWAY" 

Brogue 

"I'LL PUNCH A DONKEY IN THE STREETS OF GALWAY" 

"I'LL PUNCH A DONKEY IN THE STREETS OF GALWAY" 

Sonny boy 

Such a sonny boy 

In her voice, there's a flaw 

Sonny boy 

Such a sonny boy 

E-e-aw and e-e-aw