Strange Currencies: A Podcast For Songwriters

Burnt Leaves You never ask me to come over When you sit at the end of the bar With a look on your face Like you’re watching the implosion of a star Was it another audition Where the casting director led you on? Now you’re looking to score So we can discuss the golden era past the break of dawn I never tell you that you’re too temperamental For such a brutal line of work That your kindness would be better served As a teacher or a nurse Nor that your breakdowns amuse me For I have seen so much worse Beautiful minds who could have defined the times Lost because they got sick first Chorus Burnt leaves Scatter at my feet They’ll disappear down a gutter And life is never that neat I feel This forgotten cemetery inside me And for the grace of an unknown God I’d sleep forever beneath a white sheet Once or twice, you’ve asked outright Why I give a damn about you Another anonymous Midwest actress Probably only passing through I never reveal My habit for survival has left me alone That