Lyrics Buffalo Boys - William Patrick Corgan

Buffalo Boys

Pasty-faced villains
Chalkware pilfers dimes
Pasty-faced villains
My baubles a’int your kind
‘Cause when a Buffalo boy trades
He nickels for rhymes
Oh, gather up Sunday
Sunday makes things right
Say, rail against Persimmon
Clothed in bat thorn fright
'Cause to dash from one outdrawn
You make sunrise
Tears from our maker
Fall like rain on a windshield
In that vast, old motion picture
That they call our reflection
In the flesh
In the flash
You court cold and union
To shine me like you could
You mourn as Delilah
Her best was hardly good
So know a buffalo boy leaves
He gains sainthood
Tears from our maker
Fall like rain on a windshield
In the vast, old motion picture
That they call our reflection
Shorn from mist
Oh, when ought we marry
And drink to Artesian wealth
So when ought we marry
Betrothed beneath the shells
'Cause any thirst that slows your gait
It’s still a spell
Yes, any thirst that slows your gait
Is still a spell