Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Florence Nightingale, artist - Henry Jamison. Album song Gloria Duplex, in the genre Музыка мира
Date of issue: 07.02.2019
Record label: Akira
Song language: English
Florence Nightingale |
Well, I went in for some medicine |
Feelin' like a wounded soldier, deathly pale and a woman did come to my bedside |
A regular Florence Nightingale |
But my girlfriend just wasn’t having the comparison |
So I back-pedaled, said «okay then, how bout Mary Magdalene?» |
Anyway, I was reminded of a dream I had as my confidence came and went |
Where all the girls from the 90's |
Were singing «Just Around the Riverbend"all along the banks of the Arkansas |
And I paddled through in a dugout canoe |
I was a John Smith cartoon, with a strong jaw |
Listen I’m white, middle-class and male and the dream does tell a tale |
Of Whiteness dreaming of Whiteness |
With a want for wisdom that might tip the scale cuz my friend and I felt an |
affinity |
With the tribes in the documentary |
That plays on a loop in the backmost wing of the Museum of Natural History |
But my imperialist didn’t suddenly die he just loosened his tie and took a knee |
and Disneyland never made a man |
That’s all just false idolatry that’s all just false I- |
Florence Nightingale |
Comes in with a lamp, they say |
On stormy nights when the wound’s remembering |
Talks to me about that photograph |
Me and my brother on the sidewalk |
Holding squirt guns and squinting in the sun, |
That was the summer I was nine |
Well it’s a sunny day |
At Sugar Sugar High School |
And the quarterback and track star are cuttin' class and shootin' pool well |
this is not to say that they should be in class |
Still why they have to be such assholes? |
It’s as if we men just want to be |
Picked up sequentially |
And held to the breast of a giantess who stands ten miles out at sea |
Or, alternatively, we could find success |
You know really be the best then maybe we could rest upon our father’s knee |
Florence Nightingale |
Comes in with a lamp, they say |
On stormy nights when the wound’s remembering |
Talks to me about that photograph |
Me and my brother on the sidewalk |
Holding squirt guns and squinting in the sun, that was the summer I was nine |
Mary Magdalene |
Was at Golgotha, they say |
She saw the water separate from the blood and I look at that painting |
Of him hanging so peacefully with Mary by his bleeding side that was the summer |
he was 33 |