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The Singers

by Rachelle Armstead

/

lyrics

Hide in the closet. I cry in the dark.
Open my eyes, that's when the nightmare really starts,
And you sing.
Nobody sings like you do.

Mama doesn't know, and daddy doesn't care.
Auntie locks the door. You run your fingers through my hair,
And you sing.
You sing.

A sad song I just can't get out of my head.
Some days it holds me hostage, keeps me tied down to the bed
While you sing your sickening song,
And to my shame I sing along.

"Come on meet me in the garden; come on prick me with a rose.
Baby, no one's watching us; God only knows
That you sing.
Nobody sing like you do."

You say, "Don't tell your mum; she wouldn't understand."
You just need to feel warm. "Baby hold my hand
While you sing
You sing."

A sad song I just can't get out of my head.
Some days it holds me hostage, keeps me tied down to the bed
While you sing your sickening song,
And to my shame I sing along.

It's a sad song I just can't get out of my head.
Some days it holds me hostage, keeps me tied down to the bed
While you sing your sickening song,
And to my shame I sing along.

credits

released February 9, 2016

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all rights reserved

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about

Rachelle Armstead Columbia, South Carolina

I'm a freelance composer specializing in musical storytelling with a particular focus in scoring for visual media. Currently, I'm researching Coast Salish music and collaborating with fellow Tulalip tribal members to create a series of choral pieces in dxʷləšucid. ... more

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