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lyrics

Don't give your love to a writer
They only wanna short trip
In your shoes
Don't make a start
With a journalist of the heart
Unless you wanna feel like front page news

Don't give yourself to a painter
You never know which palette
They’ll use
With brushes and a knife
They’ll draw their art straight from your life
But the perspective always skews

I gave my heart to a butcher
Had her cut the thinnest slice
She put the rest in the freezer
And marked it down to half price

Don’t give your soul to a preacher
They never think your life's
Yours to choose
With sermons of fire
Commanding a heavenly choir
And they never take any excuse

I gave my love to a gambler
She put it all down on black
The wheel spun round and round
The bets all hit the ground
But the house never pays you back

Don’t give your love to a singer
They’ll only throw it right back
On your shoes
With notebook and pen
Words break your heart all over and over and over again
And you think the song’s about you
You think the song is all about you

credits

from Mother Transit Authority, released April 1, 2011
Don Paris Schlotman - Vocals, bass
E.W. Harris - Guitar, Moog, ElecTribe

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all rights reserved

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about

Don Paris Schlotman Brooklyn, New York

Don Paris Schlotman is a Brooklyn-based solo musician.

The seventh son of a lightning bolt and a mountain lion. Plays music the way some people fall over. His artificial left eye can see 4 seconds into the future.

Past:
bass in neo-noir band Toshio; bass/synth in Brian Bonz & The Major Crimes; guitar and vocals in Dolphins Don't Love; bass and vocals in The Sky Captains of Industry; more
... more

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