saint valentine

Gregory Alan Isakov

Well, grace she s gone, she s a half-written poem
She went out for cigarettes and never came home
And I swallowed the sun and screamed and wailed
Straight down to the dirt so I could find her trail
Spread out across the great divide

Well, I just came to talk, Saint Valentine
I never pictured you living here with the rats and the vines
Ain t that my old heart hanging out on your lines?
You re all fucked up, Saint Valentine

Now I circle the bars on the promenade
While the girls in the glass, they re just throwing me shade
And I m saving my coins up for Jingling Jane
She s out plucking strings in the pouring rain

See I m all crooked feet, saint valentine
I ve circled this map till it caught on fire
Now grace she s left you just skin and bone
Well, you hang up your hat, but you can t call it home
You ve tried and you ve tried, but you can t call it home
You re the loneliest one, Saint Valentine
You re the loneliest one, Saint Valentine
You re all fucked up, Saint Valentine