you're stumblin' down the alleyway all alone
your wallet's empty, you've got no food to eat, you're without a phone
no one to call anyway, no cigarettes left to smoke
the whole city's laughing, but you're not in on the joke
you've got your debutante
but all you really want
is someone worth holding
and so the candle burns
and a poor boy never learns
to enjoy the circles we make
while the story's unfolding
you never make it home, you pass out on the concrete
a garbage truck rumbles along, wakes you up from your sleep
you find your shoes behind the dumpster and get to your feet
the city is strong and you don't know how to compete
but still here you stand
grabbin' the horns with your hands
but you never learned to ride
and so the story goes
when one door is closed
another door opens
and you can't help but walk inside
shop lights shine like a headache into the night
aneurysm's settin' in, blood pressure's on the rise
fire trucks barrel and scream
from sun-up into the ev'ning
what does it matter to you?
the city's on fire, but you wouldn't have a clue
you're out chasin' a song
everyone knows you're wrong
but you can't abide
what difference does it make
whether it's real or fake?
you know the truth
it's all the same in your mind
Written as she was coping with an auto-immune disease, the new EP from Rachel Angel offers hushed, silvery ’50s-style Americana. Bandcamp New & Notable Aug 23, 2020