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Last Rites - Single

by Black Smith

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1.
Last Rites 05:53
[Intro - Bastille] O holy night, the stars are brightly shining It is the night of our dear Savior's birth Long lay the world in sin and error pining Till he appeared and the soul felt its worth... [Verse 1 - Black Smith] December 23rd, a holy night begins 9 PM as Forrest leaves and a call from Marcus ends An hour left till close, my restaurant is dead Then a slight burst of bizz makes me hate the world again... But my attitude adjusts once reality visits In the form of a man with no place to title his A knapsack full of nothing, camouflage, a crooked lens And a nose with a gash on the bottom of his bridge He shudders from the cold, stamps his boots on the way in Shaking slush and muddy snow on the threshold of the den He asks for me a water, I give a nod affirmative After filling his canteen, retreats to a booth at the right end... I pause for a moment as I stock my ice bin Shamed to say my only thought was on how late we stay open Continued 'bout my routine, helpin' Eric close kitchen Countin' dollars and some change, ventin' 'bout the morning shift Thirty minutes left to 10, a father of three kids Asks me at the counter if it's too late to take his bid I contain the loudest sigh, an artificial "nope" Then he said he'd had experience with the bottom of the rope Ordered a #2, the largest plate in scope And told me "keep the change" 'fore I even opened up a roll The last request he made, before he hit the road Was that I take the entire meal to that man still in the corn(er) Tears weld up in his eyes, to me they plainly spoke That random act of kindness was the simple gift of hope... [Hook - Bastille] The thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn Fall on your knees O hear the angel voices O night divine, O night, that leads to morn... [Verse 2 - Black Smith] December 24th, this Eve's about to end Sittin' right beside 'Leah on the porch of her parents Then up the driveway a car rolls, the same as mine Only difference is their color's a much cleaner silver shine We peer through the front gate as the headlights flicker dim And then give a warm and happy wave once we see whose ride it is... Jamy walks up, carrying Marley close to rib And I marvel at how fast my goddaughter's been growin' We laugh like little kids, proceed back to the door When a call on my phone makes me wheel back to the corner Trev parks his car, then steps out with a smile The thrill of when you haven't seen your family in a while... [Hook - Bastille] The thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn Fall on your knees O hear the angel voices O night divine, O night, that leads to morn... [Verse 3 - Black Smith] December 25th, we celebrate his birth But my mind is elsewhere and it cancels out the mirth Give Terrick a big hug and a farewell to his folks A handshake for the Doc, and tell his mother not to worry... Pay Clearview a visit: cemeteries never close And I search in the dark for a grave without a stone Head is full of memories, from just a year ago But the bills matter little when you're out here on these slopes A dreary realization that you're walking amongst ghosts On a Tuco type of sprint but this ain't no Ecstasy of Gold I find my Mother's post, send a prayer to the Utmost And I pour the forty out as I break down in the snow... [Outro - Bastille] Fall on your knees O hear the angel voices O night divine O night, when Christ was born... Fall on your knees O hear the angel voices O night divine O night, when Christ was born... O night, O holy night, O night divine...

about

The fifth single for Black Smith's upcoming mixtape OUT OF SEASON is also the spiritual sequel to "Rite of Passage," a well-received track off his previous SHADOW OF DEATH EP.

credits

released March 28, 2014

Vocals: Black Smith (@LongGoneJess)
Mixing and Mastering: Black Smith
Production: Black Smith, Bastille (@bastilledan)
Single Artwork: CT (@YoursTrulyCT)

"Last Rites" interpolates a significant portion of the sound recording "Tuning Out..." by Bastille, off the album 'ALL THIS BAD BLOOD.' Sample used with attribution.

J. Smith, D. Smith, K. Simmons, W. Farquarson, C. Wood, M. Crew

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