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In Foreign Tongues

from The Loveland Frogman by Doog

/

lyrics

When I novelised my silent film
I tried to fill the gaps with vapours and gas
I dug my grave and then I planted a seed
That won't ever grow

In London in late August, there is no sun
Just clouds and rain disrupting museum visits
Plenty of chlorophyll but no photosynthesis

It's the curse of my own gender
A not-so hidden agenda
It's the curse, it's the worst

Maybe all anybody wants is
Just a reflection of themselves
Eye-to-eye so you don't have to try
And maybe all anybody wants is
Just a way to not grow up
But the fountain of youth
Isn't idiot-proof

With a bow in your hair
And my stomach in knots
Not the famous arrow
More like a rabies shot

I hear the name in foreign tongues
Nestled inside the blackened lung
Inside specimen jars
Inside the stillborn young

It's the curse of my own gender
A not-so hidden agenda

In the summer you can find yourself
But there's no guarantee that you will like what you find

credits

from The Loveland Frogman, released September 4, 2017

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Doog London, UK

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