seven years and the night keeps coming back
twenty miles on the back of a motor bike
the curtains are tethered down and i don't know why
and i got no fingers, no fingers to pry
the strong and wasted fools make another game
i looked like a ghoul standing the rain
i came all this way and couldn't take the prize
and i got no fingers, no fingers to try
and i got no fingers, no fingers to try
behold, the holy traffic light!
a thousand spinning gears in a perfect line
i found the perfect sound to let the clouds roll by
but i got no fingers, no fingers to try
i got no fingers, no fingers to try
last to climb into the belly of the beast
a quiet place to listen to the bluebird sleep
(i've got a thousand arms that can tell the time)
but i got no fingers, no fingers to try
i got no fingers, no fingers to try.
William Ryan Fritch's enthralling, doomy new CD comes housed in a gorgeous, panoramic gatefold sleeve with bewitching original artwork. Bandcamp New & Notable May 16, 2016