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  1. Spin

From the recording Blind Spot

A driving, manic, drinking song, a Pretenders-drink-too-much-coffee-and-meet-at-the-circus kind of number, featuring star turns by horn player Ralph Carney, guitarist Steve Kirk.
Kathy Sparling – vocalsMyles Boisen – bassRalph Carney – tenor sax, trumpet, bass clarinetSteve Kirk – guitarsTim Rowe – drums

Lyrics

I’m airing this right off the bat:We met in the laundromat,Making change near where you sat,I tumbled and my head began to spin.In the eye of our magnetic storm,Against the glass, your uniform,Soap and cloth a cuneiform,Shifting shapes and shadows in the spin.I was still decoding, you were heading for the door,A glance over your shoulder, the engine’s roar, you took me for a spin.And now we know just how it feels,We’ve shaken off the mute appeals,We’ve taken off the safety wheels,We’re free to soar or fall in a tailspin.Dodging blades on helicopters,If we’re hurt we’ll see spin doctors, Shelter with dishonest proctors,Cheating death their grim scythes twist and spin.If we get too dizzy we’ll just turn the other cheek leave the earth to turning and inherit with the meek but that’s weak spin. Drain this glass darkly let’s begin.I close my eyes I see your face I spin…      Miss Spider did herself deceive,When first she practiced to believeA cunning and convincing weave,Now she’s tangled up in her own spin.But lately I just want to hold,The promise of a dream so bold,The straw that never will turn gold,However fast we spin.The score is next to nothing and no one’s in the lead. We’ll put it all on next and lose everything to greed one need one spin.Particles accelerate,Running just ahead of fate,A holy rolling running mate,While sainted sinners in their graves just spin.And we resort to subterfuge,Our tears a biblical deluge,Whole lives spent in a centrifuge,Souls separating cleanly while we spin.Round and round and round you find you’re turning like a top.It feels alright up until you notice you can’t stop, can’t stop the spin.The same again, this time I’ll take it on the chinOpen my eyes, and see your face, and spin…The music throbs, the tables turn,The DJ sobs “they’ll never learn,”Her mobs approach a real slow burn,While records coolly spin.If I had not yet learned with you,To do those things I’d never do,I could promise to be true,Could maybe make it through one final spin.There’s one for the record books, the furtive looks, the dirty crooks,The cotton candy carousel chagrin – let’s make that sugar spin...