Flings of the Waistcoat Crowd

Album cover art for "Flings of the Waistcoat Crowd" by Robert Pollard

Robert Pollard - Pop

Flings of the Waistcoat Crowd

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Lyrics

Great days are becoming A matchlight liquor establishment Where the factory soaks its scabs It hangs there like insectrocutioner Over the big river Scum of us rinsed by a hard rain The tar, the teeth & the gear Yet no trail All around the camp And that is our game To brag and complain To guess who goes next To tally the scars Learn every weakness

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Credits

Writers
  • Robert Pollard