Suck the Blood From My Wound [full band, unknown date 2017, Ballistico] Songtext
von Ezra Furman

I woke up bleeding in the crock of a tree
TV blaring on the wall above the coffee machine
Car wash waiting room outside Pasadena
I′m sitting waiting for my deus ex machina

And I'm forever changed by this chemical burn
Skin on my fingers peeling, making way for my new form
I grip the steering wheel and picture my angel
Climbing out the hospital window
Leaving tubes in a tangle

Blood on my angel′s lips blends in with his make up
He's off the premises before his brain's had time to wake up
Peeling off bandages to unfold his wings
The doctors said they′d have to stay on for another three weeks
Fuck it baby, let ′em bruise, let 'em break
But bleed, let ′em bleed


I'm doing ninety, got to get there and hold him
If we can make it across the state line then baby, we′re golden
Let the law pronounce its petty assertions
They've been outsmarted by a couple of urchins
And they hurt you bad, man
They hurt me too
But I′m not about to sit here and watch as they
Suck the blood from my wound
Suck the blood from my wound
Suck the blood from my wound
Suck the blood from my wound
Ohh man

Wrap half the money in your hospital garment
We'll stash the rest inside the red Camaro's secret compartment
Even the deepest wounds will heal over time
I′ll run my fingers over your scars and yours over mine
They′ll never find us if we turn off our phones
We're off the grid, we′re off our meds
We're finally out on our own
Now I see colour coming back in your cheeks
Angel, don′t fight it
To them you know we'll always be freaks
To them you know we′ll always be freaks
We'll always

Park for the night north west of Baton Rouge
Across the parking lot you're stretching the one wing you can move
I let you walk as long as fear will allow
I never loved you more than I love you now


And then we′re back on the road before the sun′s even up
We're making time, we′re making progress
But progress towards what?
Your fallen feathers fill up two shopping bags
The future's breathing down the neck of the past
And the sun throws a shit-eating shine on the moon
And I′m not about to wait for them to come
Suck the blood from my wound
Suck the blood from my wound
Suck the blood from my wound
Suck the blood from my wound

A plague on both your houses
A plague on both your houses