Tracey Lenin's lyrics & chords

So there I was, smoking cold in The Blind Beggar, sour mash swirling in my mouth. I didn’t even have a red left in my wallet. The door swung open and Dalmasso stumbled across with a couple of guitars that had lost their owners. He had a sideways look on his face. He knew I wouldn’t buy. Wood, the local fiddle player stopped playing. Dalmasso still owed Wood money for a job he did down the Camden Lock. The three of us just stood there, staring at each other. It was like something out of a Graham Green novel. The wet silence was broken by th...read more