Lucy Kruger & The Lost Boys - Black Spot

I’m unable to be kind
With this black spot on my
Mind’s unstable
So I sharpen up my claws
To remove these evening thoughts in a

Spare room lit with old moon
A feather comes undone
A little voice is wrung from a
Quiet night comes a new fight
To summon up the sound
That would lift me from the ground and

I rise
I write

I’m unwilling to undress
With this cold that plagues my
Chest needs filling
So I sink into the wine
To loosen up this spine in a

Spare room lit with old moon
A feather comes undone
A little voice is wrung from a
Spare heart filled with used parts
The dust begins to fall
The feathers find the floor and

I rise
I write
To feed this fire, oh

I rise
I write
To feed this fire, oh

I rise
I write
To feed this fire, oh

I rise
I write
To feed this fire on

Quiet night seen through closed eyes
There is nothing but a sound
Dying to be found on a

Quiet night seen through shut eyes
There is nothing but a sound
Dying to be found

Written by:
Lucy Kruger

Publisher:
Lyrics © SCHUBERT MUSIC PUBLISHING INC.

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