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Lyrics : Sister Death

Found On: Cult Of The Basement .. Western Family .. ¡Excellent! The Violent Years .. The Jazz Butcher's Free Lunch
The Butcher Says...

Letter: 13Sep94
MP3:[listen to stream]


Come sister death
And get me out of here
I know what you know
There's no need to talk anymore

And when you're tired
And when you're sick at heart
And when you're lonely
She'll be living there

And she'll pick you up
And she'll cool you down
And she'll hold you close
There's no need to talk anymore
You'll just bleed if you talk anymore
In your sister's arms

And sister death is watching you
And sister death is always there
She'd like to be your special friend
She'd like to show how much she cares

And you've seen her in those clubs
And from the back seat of a car
And sister death is very beautiful
And never very far away

Said: "Get me out of here"
Looked across the crowded room
And I said: "get me out of here"
To the girl with the mad eyes and serious earrings

It's hot in here, too hot in here
There's too much conversation
Said I hate it here, can't stand it here
There's too much conversation

Won't you get me out of here
Oh get me out of here, sister
Won't you get me out of here
Oh get me out of here, get me out of here, sister

I'm in heaven

Come sister death
And get me out of here
I know what you know
There's no need to talk anymore

The Butcher Says...

Not inspired by Neil Gaiman or Anne Rice, thank you. Large tracts stolen from Alex Chilton, though - Night Time on Sister Lovers

[extra shit] Visitors' comments for this page [Add your own]
Sister Death
rondillon[at]-remove-onebox.com - Pleasanton, CA USA
13Aug2002 11:01 PM (6 years 17 days ago)
My friend John and I used to play this song together..
He was the biggest Butch fan in the worls and his claim
to fame was this: At the Great American Music Hall in
S.F. he gave pat a copy of his demo. Months later John
got a postcard from Pat thanking him. That postcard,
that simple postcard was the most prized possession
John had.

John passed away a couple years ago and I miss him
more than you can imagine. Listening to The Jazz
Butcher brings John back to me and I can imagine us
playing all these songs - him singing, me trying to be
Max pissed as a rat....

And the crazy thing? The sadness these songs bring to
me is dear. I'm sad that John is gone and that's ok.
These songs let me be sad. Sister Death and a few
Guinness and I'm crying and telling John I miss him and
that's good.

I'm pissed now and I'm mising John and loving The
Butch and wishing we were back at The Great
American Music Hall...

Love to you all, no matter who you are,

Ron