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Posted By: Chris on Tuesday, 17 February 2009, 18:20
Category : Chris, Indie, Rock
Tags : , , , , , , , , ,

Tonight’s tune comes to us from the Denver, Colorado indie-rock band Crooked Fingers.  The band is led by front man Eric Bachmann from the now disbanded indie-rock group Archers of LoafNew Drink for the Old Drunk is the second track from the band’s self-titled debut album, released in January of 2000.  The band’s first two albums were released by the independent label Warm Records before releasing their next two via Merge Records.  Merge Records is of course the label responsible for one of my favorite albums of all time, Funeral by Arcade Fire.

PS. I apologize for the crummy audio quality.  If anyone comes across a better video please let me know.

Would you try--
could you buy a new drink for the old drunk
It’s no crime to resign misery with a bottle
You walked into town without making a sound
And you slipped and you slammed your face into the crowd
As you tried to forget all the words that were said
To deny all the things that you keep in your head

When you came you were new but today you’re much older
You were spent so you went to get used in the corner
Where they kicked you around like a rodeo clown
And it echoed through town they were beating you down
And as they spread the word that you liked how it hurt
All at once you were cause for a pitiful cure

Hours pass by half forgotten
Night turns black cause it’s rotten
And we slide right to the bottom
Our tongues made out of cotton
Eyes seal shut in a slumber
Til we hear someone mumble
Could you spare from the tumbler
A new drink for the old drunk

Now you waste all your days in the dark in the corner
Without light without grace where you wait for the slaughter
Where they spit in your face as the hours grow late
And they laugh as they lie and then seal up your fate
And you cringe as you binge to forget how you hate
All the doom in this pitiful room you create

Hours pass by half forgotten
Night turns black cause it’s rotten
And we slide right to the bottom
Our tongues made out of cotton
Eyes seal shut in a slumber
Til we hear someone mumble
Could you spare from the tumbler
A new drink for the old drunk

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