In for the money, eyes in the price
You can’t spare a second out of your life
Your dreams are gone
They’re gone away
Gold in your pockets, dust in your nose
A handful of fire bloodstained your clothes
Your soul is gone
It’s gone away
No saints, no sinners
Just life and tose who live it
Clock is ticking, time’s running out
Oh, I’d rather be a singin’ soul
Oh, I’d rather be a singin’ soul
Oh, I’d rather be a singin’ soul
Than a grey suit with none at all
You take life for granted, wasting your days
You’ve fallen on routines and now it’s too late
The damage done’s beyond repair
No saints, no sinners
Just life and tose who live it
Clock is ticking, time’s running out
Oh, I’d rather be a singin’ soul
Oh, I’d rather be a singin’ soul
Oh, I’d rather be a singin’ soul
Than a grey suit with none at all
Oh, I’d rather be a singin’ soul
Oh, I’d rather be a singin’ soul
Oh, I’d rather be a singin’ soul
Than a grey suit with none at all
In the main road at the park
Sitting as far as I possibly can
Playing on my guitar
I can see you walking over
We greet with a smile
I think you heard something you liked
So we start up the chat, up to this point it’s all fine
The latest from Sonny Smith's long-running San Francisco outfit is clever and very sweet and more than a little bit country. Bandcamp Album of the Day Aug 3, 2021