Clowntown from Old Dirt by Tulpa and the Villains

There’s a clown who lives in my basement,
so I don’t go down anymore.
His teeth are too large for a human’s
and he carries ‘round knives and a jar.
Above there are monks that are praying,
praying for they see the end.
Outside there’s a widow who’s weeping,
weeping for lovers and friends.
In my head there are birds that are flying,
flying ‘cause they cannot breathe.
The moon it faces an echo
as the tides no longer recede.
These walls we built in the night
make sure that we’ll never leave.
In my head there are birds that are dying,
dying because they cannot breathe
and I’m all alone in a meadow
waiting for someone to leave.

• Alternative
• folk rock
• indie
• rock
• Grand Ledge