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Whiskey Serenade

from the curve by noah mclaughlin

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Pour mon délice

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She bites her lip and she says "whiskey"
So I pour a shot smooth as her smile
And we talk of love and lust and leather
We put off sleep for awhile
We fall into that bottle
Fall under its spell
And grin

This conversation is like fencing
Half in jest, half a test
We are circling an emptiness
Waiting to step, waiting to rest
We fall into that rhythm
Fall under its spell
And dance

Be my north star, my confessor
Mend me with gold when I'm undone
These depths of want and aspiration
This yearning hot like August sun
Let us fall into that fire
Fall into that flame
And burn

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from the curve, released September 22, 2012

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noah mclaughlin Atlanta, Georgia

Appalachian distortion, folk samples, and ancient myths.

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