Dropped my gloves into the stove
Clangs[?] echoed out the grate
I fell in love with those electric lights
That drug me into town so late

Two nimble, cunning clever nights
I ran behind them, deputized
To scrape the lens off Christian eyes
I'm a Friday night girl, bracing for Sunday to call

I only ever held one love
Her name was Marianne
She died having a child by her brother
He died because I murdered him

Shot him though his jelly eye
I won myself his wicked life
Now I thread the needle once through mine
I'm a Friday night girl, bracing for Sunday to call

Emptied onto shifting sheets
Staring rosary holes in my ceiling
Waiting for my purpose to deliver and reveal itself to me
But all I hear are subway trains bang against the bed rungs, clang
So I bang a little too
I'm a Friday night girl, bracing for Sunday to call
Bracing for Sunday to call