The White Knuckle Express by the Fatima Mansions
From the Fatima Mansions’ 1990 Viva Dead Ponies album. Written by Cathal Coughlan. No capo.
VERSE 1
This [E] truck stop [E7] rancid [E] gravy
A [E] man with no [E7] hands waves
The do [Bm7b5] g ’round my leg bumps and [D6] grinds
It [E] rains for [E7] miles out [E] side there
On [E] mud and ta [E7] r and still air
The fun [Bm7b5] gus-lined gap ‘tween stinking [E] towns
CHORUS
[A] [F6]
Pork Eyes got him a brand new hand
He’s gonna grasp you
He won’t ask you
And he’ll tell you it’s all your fault
The cup runneth over
Your jaws to bless
On the White Knuckle Express
VERSE 2
[E] She is grace naked
Cannot see her face
She slides across me
I am wearing a collar and a tie
We’re [E] tuneful, [E7] cute and [E] giving
See, that’s [E] how we [E7] make our living
In a [Bm7b5] hall full of corpses, we’d smile and bounce [D6] on
Some [E] say it’s [E7] aimless bull [E] shit
Oh but they [E] come from big hou [E7] ses and budgets
But, al [Bm7b5] though I don’t look it, it’s getting really fucking [D6] old
CHORUS
[A] [F6]
Pork-Eyes, in the presence of a sweet young girl
He’s gonna spill you
It better thrill you
Or he’ll rip this place apart
Pork-Eyes
We’re going up
We’re going up
Feet-first, feet-first
And the legend on that girl’s thigh reads “Love Hurt Hate”
The cup runneth over
Your jaws to bless
On the White Knuckle Express
FADE
[A] [F6]
Pork-Eyes, he will stroke your long hair tenderly in all the waterfront bars, where the wine and hollow talk of men will muffle things that really, really are. And you’ll go back to your room with him on your healthy sandaled feet …