B. Dolan - Body of Work [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

Her story is getting old
In a night with no company
Stood up by the door
So uncomfortably
Gnawing at her thumb til it bleeds
She's in the way
Bent out of shape
The money makes her wait
The waitress looks her way and makes a face
Staring at the empty plate
Drift away...
Shifty and agitated
Frustration and despair
Silent phone and lonely rage
Why isn't he here
We had a date...
For chrissake...

The corner's colder than the tomb
The city air is empty
I live in god's country
I let the devil tempt me
Drowing in the wishing well
Surrounded in this living hell
These people think they're better than me
But I've got bellies to feed
That dress is too expensive
And that movie's been made
I do for you
You do for me
It's a mutual exchange
It fills a desperate need
3 hours late he finally texted me
Lost his nerve, maybe next week
Another deadbeat

Another drop of poison on my tongue
Another cloud of smoke filling my lungs
Rough kisses smudge the paint on my lips
Hungry stomachs and tight fists
Broken bones and bruised nerves
Sounding the alert
In a body of work
In a body of work
They promise her to the dirt
In her body

The city is a blister
Splitting open wide
The rotted shell of an insect
Laid out on its side
A little death
The hot white spotlight
Paints the darkness
With our silhouttes
I haven't met the numbers in my head
And can't go home yet
Instead I'm slouched against a post on a fence
Posing for them that pose a threat and hold me by the neck
Approaching next the slack jaws and fat rolls
Who get what they ask for
The dashboard glows
I tug at my clothes
Try to act casual
Tell them what it costs to rob me
They look me up and down and then we
Bargain over parts of my
Body and mind... seperate
The hour is getting late
The lost time
Dividing dollar signs before my eyes
I should've sized them up better
But it's a long drive at the end of an off-night
And they seemed alright
I never ask too many questions
Get in at the intersection to slip from the city's memory
And what do you get...

Another drop of poison on my tongue
Another cloud of smoke filling my lungs
Rough kisses smudge the paint on my lips
Hungry stomachs and tight fists
Broken bones and bruised nerves
Sounding the alert
In a body of work
In a body of work
They promise her to the dirt
In her body