Tourist, Pt. 1

from by Adler Hall

/

lyrics

If I keep my voice down here
will you know that I'm a tourist here in London
and all my blood's still in me?
Don't chase me back to Boston
I would even pay for you
to lay me down and talk me through the ways you can console me.

You say "nothing is holy.
Nothing round here not my skin or your name
but you can afford me.
You can afford me for an hour or more, 'til you're sick of it"

Will you chase me back to Boston

You press your face against my collar
say I taste like lotus water
if that's what you wanted
You wrap my body round your thumb
and trace the constellations with your tongue
and whisper all their names to me.
You take your time to shape Orion
you say that's how you like to write it

Nothing is holy.
Nothing round here not my skin or your name
and you can afford me.
You can afford me for an hour or more 'til you're sick of it.
Sick just like before, so why come here at all?

If I keep my voice down here
will you know that I'm a tourist here in London
and all my blood's still in me?
Cause anyone can find St. Paul's
and wander through the catacombs
or climb up and whisper in the gallery.

credits

from (Tourist), released September 8, 2016

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Adler Hall Brooklyn, New York

Henry Hoagland
Robin Buyer
Spencer Inch
Kyle Joseph
Ryan Kershaw

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