I dropped my gloves into the stove
hymns echoed out the grate
I fell in love with those electric lights
that drug me into town so late
To nimble, cunning, clever nights
I railed behind them, deputized
to scrape the lens of Christian eyes,
I'm a Friday night girl
bracing for Sunday to come
I only ever held one love,
her name was Mary Anne
She died having a child by her brother
He died because I murdered him.
I shot him through his jelly eye
and I won myself his wicked life,
now I Thread-the-needle waltz through mine,
I'm a Friday night girl
bracing for Sunday to come.
I emptied onto shifting sheets,
staring rosary holes in my ceiling,
waiting for my purpose to deliver,
and reveal itself to me
But all I hear are subway trains
bang against their bedrock lanes
so I bang a little too..
I'm a Friday night girl
bracing for Sunday to come
Bracing for Sunday to come.