Its glass teeth are glass so we can see what it said
Its paper hands are barely covering its head
Just enough to grate us in a perfectly wrong way
Forgot the color of her eyes with paper in the way
You're in New York city and the city's been a bitch
Holding back in hormones and instigating itch
Its finger prints are origami built to be low tide
Tattooed on the sand with no chance to dry
Its chest is heaving breaths and a wordsmith's projection
Its god is not as tall as you may have expected
Its in the garden tasting its all time favorite dish
Investigating taste buds and rewarding the snitch
There's something in the way right now or so it seems
To hear the chorus in its head would make me happy
Released in 2001, “The Convincer” is a gentle gem in the Nick Lowe catalog; an anniversary edition provides opportunity for rediscovery. Bandcamp New & Notable Sep 20, 2021