Atlantic City - Huntsmen

A long hot Indian summer

Poolside white girl tans

She got her claws into me early that summer

Toenails like talons, sparkling in the sand

Atlantic City, winding back alley streets

Her wrist in my hand, on the run, clutching my gun

We left our souls open and willing to the heart of a fray not yet exposed

And all along the beach, sharks washed up, teeth strewn around, bleached by the

sun

Watch where you’re walking, there’s blood in the sand

Watch where you’re walking, this gun in my hand…

Love, wait for me, I’m almost home

Save my place at hearth of stone

Don’t wait for me, I’m almost gone

Take my place when winter comes