This morning I'm posting an older SPELLS tune that we will be playing this Friday at Larimer Lounge. I wrote 'At Night' a few years back about the several crazy fucking years I lived on Colfax Ave. For quite some time I even worked at Denver Drug and Liquor, right on the corner of Colfax and Logan, selling half pints of Paul Mason, single cigarettes, and white bread to section eight tenants of lower Cap Hill. I distinctly remember that as the sun set each evening, women of all ages, from teens to sixties, would slink out from god knows where, strung out, to pick at their arms and crawl the streets like demi-zombies. Clothes covered in dirt and shit, with faces like someone I knew, it was hard and bizarre to watch a mother, daughter, niece, or someone's first crush, simultaneously pacing and dying without a second glance from the multitudes plodding by. Hell, I never said anything either. It was much easier that way. This is about those women, probably dead. Hopefully not. Lyrics below.
Outta sight, You only sell the piece of parts you're breaking Outta mind A walking wound that no one wants to sew
(Chorus) At night The devil sells the plague that feeds the angels, baby At night You never have to see their halos go
Grip tight The fingers and the fog and even quaking, baby How could they ever call you lazy, lady? When you're always digging holes
(Breakdown) Alright Keep pushing all those parts your clearly breaking, baby How could they ever call you lazy, lady When you're always digging holes Cause at night The devil sells the plague that feeds the angels, baby And at night You never have to see their halos go
At night At night (Chuck and Lauren) Outta sight At night At night (Chuck and Lauren)