Nicholas Pierotti - Justice Avenue
338 views · Published 30 April 2011 · 10:40 · Indexed 29 September 2026
Channel: eurydicejones · 2011 · Music
The Corner Store of Love is not open to You... The Corner Store of Love is not open to You. I saw you standing in the Rain, like an Angel of Pain, On Justice Avenue. Raw Head and Bloody Bones Raw Head and Bloody Bones Raw Head and Bloody Bones Life exudes a bloody red juice, Baby It comes upon you every night you spend alone In it you are a walkin Down alleys of stone. It is not the end of the world, It is not the end of the world, It is not the end of the whorld. If the morning is an Endless Highway, Going down a Valley of Lies And the Rainbows are full of Promise, A Promise as empty As your eyes I dreamt of a Golden Valley Where the dead could not be cured Along the alleys, Wanderin, Through Fields, Green with Corn And Midnight is a Pregnant Homestead And the Ox in the Slaughterhouse sings, The Swallows turn above you, In the Morning, In the Spring. Then I saw the Golden Candles, Burning in Rows, before the Pews. The World's great Dreams, Like Golden Sandals, Running down the Strains of the Avenue And I went down To the Downtown Town, To the Downtown Golden Shore Where the Sleepers were awakening Golden Waves did Crash and Roar And the Sea was a Poem of Yearning Set to turning by the Sun, And the Dreams Blew all around us, Pronghorns, Ancient, On the run. And the road Was a gypsy ribbon, Wound and wound and wound and wound and wound In your hair, That a wild winnow sent a spinning Through the dark fields so far and fair. Eyes as green as meadows, Swallows dipping In the Spring And the Golden Ancient Dawn, On the Emerald Ancient Lawn, Like Lions, nodding, to a King. And my Queen She walked beside me In Raiment Fair, as Blue as Day, In the Morning of the World, On this Ancient Golden Shore, We went away, We went away. And the surf crashed all around us, And the light was soft and pure, And we stood in the light, Golden End to the Night, In the Roaring of the Shore In the Roaring of the Shore The great hall of the patriots echoes with the marble footsteps of time, made smooth by the passage of bare feet. She's an angel and a rainbow. And Truth is my name, not Thoth, and not Orpheus who I once was in Golden Time, where the meadowlarks will bear my bier with their song! copyright 2003 by Nicholas Pierotti (Recorded at Quicksilver Studios, San Jose, California Friday, April 29, 2011)
