Snow in April

04:40
Bobby Vacant & The Worn
words and music B.Vacant

Lyrics

Seven-thirty-five and the tired pour out on the street. Where the weary and the worn and the naked all come to meet. And every step you take upon this battered road you see the sign’s the same. And when you turn this broken corner see that nothing much has ever changed. Lines of faces stuck inside the window spilling coffee, cream and pain. The waitress at the counter telling stories filled with sadness once again. No one ever said it snows in April once again. No one said the lonely heart is always filled with dread. No one said the phones at night are ringin' 'til their dead. No one said. Six-thirty-eight and the silent crack of light down the hall. The sleeping rise to write the holy message high upon the wall. You rise and watch the sun as it boils across this city’s dirty shelf. And wonder how the hell you’ll put upon this frozen smile of sacred wealth. The shower stains of rust leave broken marks of Cain upon your breast. The early morning news speaks of fire, brimstone, and death. No one ever said it snows in April once again. No one said the lonely heart is always filled with dread. No one said the phones at night are ringin' 'til their dead. No one said. Twelve-twenty-three and the lonely pour back to the street. Toting sacks of brown, sunglasses, and greasy things to eat. And all museum steps are cool and white to offer solace from the swell. And all the glass and steal climbs upwards high above this city cell. Think of all the ships floating down like crystals in the night. Tumbling down forever cathedrals towering and bright. No one ever said it snows in April once again. No one said the lonely heart is always filled with dread. No one said the phones at night are ringin' 'til they're dead. No one said. No one said the neon lights are flashin' in your head. No one said the blood inside is rushing thick and red. No one said the human heart is fragile in the end. No one said. No one said that all the days were worse than all the nights. No one said that every soul would one day be alright. No one said the flowers stay all colorful and bright. No one said. And the heart is just a snowflake wandering in the night. A soul a piece of star falling wet and bright. And when it hits your face it stings with all its might. All its might.