Saint Valentine - Gregory Alan Isakov

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