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Spider Without A Web

from Hobo Postcards by Jeff Andrew

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lyrics

Spider Without A Web

On the morning of the crash, she woke up in the rain
Broken down outside a Montreal café
So she tattooed her face and she slid under the stairs
There was nothing left for them to take away
With a handful of broken glass and her extraordinary care
She wrote her name in blood and left it on the wall
With the secret hobo signs and nothing left to lose
She hopped a train and rode away into the fall

If you don’t make it to the West, I’ll come find you in the East
Meet me down at Bramasole’s and we’ll hitchhike out to sea

The leaves are falling down on that last October night
Full Moon came a day too late
In the shadow of a streetlight, smoking in the rain
She stands before the curtains of her fate
Jackson’s in the alley calling out for Sneaky Pete
Gumshoe Banshee plays a gin waltz on the saw
The seas are rough and stormy and the hour’s getting late
For a girl without a net to break her fall

I fell through an endless sky, but I never hit the ground
In that dream she heard my cry, spun a web of sound
I fell into her moonbeam eyes, softly as I slept
“No great dreamer ever dies,” cried the spider as she wept
“We just open our eyes instead”

At the burned-out gates of Heaven, there’s a purple rose in flames
To guard the doorway to what’s left of the machine
With a single drop of moonlight, she spun her glistening strand
And we danced upon a spiderweb of dreams
In the morning there’s no story like a cold and lonely bed
She grabbed her pack without a word and hit the street
It ends with a question, like a murder in the rain:
She wrote the words out in the dust beneath her feet

-Chorus-

credits

from Hobo Postcards, released September 5, 2011
Jeff Andrew - guitar, dobro, vocals
Tobias Meis - bass
Kenan Sungur - percussion
Music & Lyrics by Jeff Andrew

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Jeff Andrew Vancouver, British Columbia

Fiddles, horns, double bass and subterranean percussion from the tunnels of East Vancouver. Songs from the road and beyond the grave.

"A backroads troubadour with a few things to say by way of viscera, nerve and hard experience." - Folk & Acoustic Music Exchange
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