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The Rabble

from Black Songs by Sammy Slims

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lyrics

You can't put hope in your heart,
It merely burns up a hole
That drains the blood from your heart.
Make yourself serious now,
No more fucking around,
They need your hands in the house.
Your mother's lying in bed,
By now she's probably dead,
You'll have to clean up the mess.

And when you jump into the air they pull the rug,
When you're down on the ground they'll probably look up your skirt.

And when the postman rings, you know the news is bad,
That the car you have stolen, has exploded in a crash.

Your rubber boots indicate you're in a lower class.
The cigarettes that you smoke, really taste like mint.
The awful school you send your kids is much too close to your house.
The smoke and mirrors you employ are fucking out of style.

credits

from Black Songs, released April 18, 2014

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Sammy Slims Cleveland, Ohio

Sammy Slims is a musical act from Cleveland. The music of Sammy Slims features themes of mortality and procreation set to danceable beats and hummable melodies. Shiny production belies dark underlying moods.

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