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Cathal Coughlan
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Pawnshop Riches (GBEVM0210109)
A garden town in flush of spring.
Pawnshop riches
Pawnshop riches
the church spires groan, the wild flowers sting
liver craving stitches
Pawnshop riches
So take the jewellery down the street
promise gently that you'll bring it back next week.
Truth like nation-builders speak
Pawnshop riches
Pawnshop riches
The body primed, black dawn arrives,
praying for new life,
lying for my life.
serene she sleeps; thus ebbs our time;
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lying for my life
praying for new life
The roaming lover lives upstairs
he keeps his shack-job unaware
but I did worse when I dwelt there.
Lying for my life
Who needs this snatched life?
Lying for my life.
So take her jewels down the street
no judge in Garden Town will hang you for a thief
now that it knows you'll never leave
Pawnshop riches
Pawnshop riches.
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