We put your couch on the roof
Sat there for the afternoon
I put my head on your shoulder and said what a view
Then neither of us talked for a quiet minute
The Lake Street bridge is dark
And then it isn't
I remember
A city of roofs
Covered in beers
Noah's Ark floats on blood sweat and tears
I was guilty of having white guilt
I was guilty of laughing at a Colbert Sunset
We ordered Chinese and shat on the shingles
Waited for rain like two thirsty singles
And all around Wickedness
And inside
Now all those nasty things I promised you
Are much too public
Besides, what kind of world is this
For a turkey baster baby?
When all around wickedness
And inside
Reality struck
A forgotten religion
Can't shoot the shit less you can hit the pigeon
And I applied myself to earning a decent living
You followed downstairs became a commuter
Sitting in chairs staring at the computer
When all around wickedness
And inside
This sweet, mournful “loose concept” album from folk artist Ian McCuen tracks a journey across the bleak landscape of American life. Bandcamp New & Notable Nov 22, 2022