Every Sunday

from by Joustene Lorenz

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Every Sunday I would busk near Bristol Castle. I would sing and perform excerpts from Euripides' tragedy 'Medea'.Sometimes I would get so involved in the performance, I would end up half naked and the police would move me on. Every Sunday, though, I would go home alone, thinking of Medea and wondering about the love that is a sin to feel.


Every Sunday
Every Sunday,
You will find me there,
Standing in your cage,
Garland in my hair.

Three thousand years,
You still want to see her,
Blood on her tongue,
My vengeful Medea.

City streets at night,
Fragments of light,
They dragged you here
Because they wanted to stare,
They judged you because you flew too close to the sun.

Every Sunday
You will stop and stare,
I’ll be on my knees,
The passions that we share.

The love that is cast in time.
You going to find me lost in rhyme.


Every Sunday,
You’re going to find me lost in rhyme,
Every Sunday,
The sorrow bleeding from my eyes,
Every Sunday,
Medea falling to her knees,
Every Sunday,
The love that is a sin to feel.


Every Sunday,
You’re going to find me on my own.
Every Sunday,
Medea is walking home alone,
Every Sunday,
You’re going to hear the same sad song,
Every Sunday,
The love that is a sin to know.


from Lost in Rhyme, released April 4, 2019
Joustene—vocals, Yairi classical guitar, percussion
Bealla Noiseuse-vocals, bass


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Joustene Lorenz NSW, Australia

Having played in fusion and punk bands through her teens, Joustene often now performs solo. With an eclectic mix of influences and interests, Joustene's song represent a rich tapestry of personal and contemporary life.

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