The cold darkness it brews through my skin and wind won’t leave me alone, a sweet lady knocks on my door, says she aint got a home. Her eyes are filled with guilt and just a hint of sin. And I can’t help but ask myself, where has she been?
So please come right in, to the halfway whorehouse
She’s got a lazy eye, she’ll tickle you to the bone, she’s got the low down on everything that happening, she’s got the taste of sweetness, and just a hint of sin.
She takes on the spirits; she takes on the Holy Ghost you know. She’s a parasite and it looks like, I’ve become the host. She’s taking chances and she’s been here all week… I didn’t seem to notice because we were dancing cheek to cheek. So please come right in, to the halfway whore house.
Well tickle me to the bone, and then she’ll disappear, leave me all alone… I’ll be right here, in the halfway whore house.
The posthumous record by the legendary Tony Joe White is full of rugged, smoky blues & Americana, culled from a trove of demos. Bandcamp New & Notable May 10, 2021