Fingers bent and broke,nlike a promise in your coat,nfeeding your daughternlike a dog.nSlivers in your sidenwill help you pull the blinds,nleaving yourselfnand all you know.nnSouthside, and coming close to midnight.nThere are still a thousand crimes to pay.nnThe books we couldn't find,nand the words we couldn't write,nsearing through our bodiesnlike a knife.nThe river leads us home,nwe'll leave the rest to the unknown,npocket the nighttime like a coin.nnSouthside, and coming close to midnight.nThere are still a thousand mice to tame.nnLeave our bible by the bed,nso you can rest your head,nLiving in a dust bowl, ndead and dry.nKiss your rosary,nyou'll need them more than me.nYou're tuckered out,nand someone needs to fight.nnSouthside, and coming close to midnight.nThere are still a thousand different names.nnSouthside, coming close to midnight.nn