I got cold sweat drippin’ up and down my neck,
I got a migraine headache and I’m feelin’ sick.
And I’m not quite sure how I fell so far
I got 10 bloody knuckles, oh what a mess
I got a hundred missed calls and I couldn’t care less.
The toxic stench of decay, sweating out the shame of yesterday.
We go on livin, we dry those whinning eyes, try again tomorrow
If we make it to sunrise.
_____
"Sunrise" may be my favorite song by the Asbury Park band The Vansaders. The full-on, electric punk version is awesome.
But then I heard this acoustic version. And it totally fits in with my film noir sensibilities.
I was trying to find an image to attach the song to, and I remembered one from a shoot about 10 years ago at a little hotel in West Hollywood, not far from where The Doors recorded LA woman.
The sense of end-of-your rope desperation that singer Doug Zambon sings of is reflected here.
But he also has a glimmer of light in the song, not reflected in the image: If he can hold on till sunrise, maybe things will work out.
Maybe.
