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Shonali Bhowmik
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The Sorcerer Of Kalamazoo
I spilled my guts as a proper girl
I wiped them up with a blue eyed boy
While hanging out, he thought that he would dry
Blackbirds came down and scrawled my name into his side.
This is a small town, that mumbles under her breath
The days have blisters on their feet
The nights pray for rest
Choking on the silence, he's a simple man.
Wandering in the streets, bumming cigarettes
What will you share?
What will you concoct?
Well as the sorcerer of Kalamazoo
What pill will you hand out?
What will you share?
What will you concoct?
Well as the sorcerer of Kalamazoo
What pill will you hand out?
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The rapids were grand.
They contain themselves
Only fibbing to the congregation that pats him on his back.
He looks good in brown, he feels best in black
Like a thistle on the road
There's nothing left to fight back.
What will you share?
What will you concoct?
Well as the sorcerer of Kalamazoo
What pill will you hand out?
What will you share?
What will you concoct?
Well as the sorcerer of Kalamazoo
What pill will you hand out?
What pill will you hand out?
What pill will you hand out?
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