"...the streets are bleeding out for a real dream that's not filled with unmarked bills
When the moon turns its back to let off steam you're faced with a cold chill
There's a bird at the window, smoke in it's eye, singing off key
There's a wounded girl with her heart-shaped shoe in the shadows..."
When the moon turns its back to let off steam you're faced with a cold chill
There's a bird at the window, smoke in it's eye, singing off key
There's a wounded girl with her heart-shaped shoe in the shadows..."
[ Marcus Foster - Shadows of the City ]
MannMannMann. Habe diesen crazie little guy letzten Samstag zum ersten Mal live erlebt, habe gesehen wie der kleine "devil" wie ein wildes Tier sein Gesicht verzerrte und krümmte bei jedem Kniefall, bei jeder Textzeile.
Sich selbst als "höchst authentischer 40-Zigaretten-am-Tag-rauchender Crack" bezeichnend, kommt er wie ein kleiner schüchterner Junge mit nem arg verschmitzten Lächeln daher. Und performt doch seine bluesig-angekratzten, leicht wildwüchsigen Songs wie ein Manisch-Verworrener aus der Seitenstrasse.
"...You can feel the air breathing down your neck like a ghost standing by your side
Flashing white teeth by the silent road he's looking for a place to hide
Rain-cold woman with a knife in her hand and a shovel on the grassy ground
Catch a left eye you can hear the sound of the shadows..."
Flashing white teeth by the silent road he's looking for a place to hide
Rain-cold woman with a knife in her hand and a shovel on the grassy ground
Catch a left eye you can hear the sound of the shadows..."
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