Days of Pearly Spencer
Marc Almond
A tenement, a dirty street
Walked and worn by shoeless feet
Inside it's long and so complete
Watched by a shivering sun
Old eyes in a small child's face
Watching as the shadows race
Through walls and cracks and leave no trace
And daylight's brightness shuns
The days of Pearly Spencer
The race is almost run
Nose pressed hard on frosted glass
Gazing as the swollen mass
On concrete fields where grows no grass
Stumbles blindly on
Iron trees smother the air
But withering they stand and stare
Through eyes that neither know nor care
Where the grass is gone
The days of Pearly Spencer
The race is almost run
Pearly where's your milk white skin
What's that stubble on your chin
It's buried in the rot gut gin
You played and lost not won
You played a house that can't be beat
Now…
