Why are you here all alone girl?
Up a mile high is no place to cry.
I propose a patio bar on Broadway.
This Colorado sky is on fire.
Say, I like the cut of your jib, ma’am.
And the tequila salt on your breath.
I’m not afraid of your darkness.
I’ve always been attracted to death.
They’re lining up for beds down in Five Points.
When I get mine, it’s underground.
I hear they’re digging up bones again out in Cheesman.
But hey, Slim Censa’s got a nifty sound.
If there’s one thing that I’ve learned from cruising Colfax.
It’s that the mile high is a good enough place to die.
© Michael Salamone – Salatone Recordings – Michael Salamone Publishing