St. South

Got a piece of my mind, to tell you who's mine.
Nobody hurts like me for you.
Soft slacks at night, I'm wearing 'em tight
nobody hurts like I do.

Your fakers are fine, but your water ain't wine
So stop feeding me, 'a little more time'.
Your shit's a mess; I'm not yours to undress.
I'm leaving this love for the last time.
I'm not yours I'm mine.

You've got the means to caress
but weak you leave me a mess.
One touch is enough, your hands, a little too rough.
Will I ever be enough?
I'm not yours I'm mine.

We fall the fader to black
release the ropes and feel the slack.
I'm not yours I'm mine.
I tell you every time; you're walking a fine, fine line.
I'm not yours I'm mine.
I'm not yours.
Heard it all before.


“I’m not yours, I’m mine” is the mantra of St. South’s sublime single, “Slacks”.

The track boasts a sauntering jazz beat and metallic synths to set the deep blue backdrop onto which she layers her crystalline vocals. Sounding genuinely exhausted from a never-ending game of tug-of-war has never sounded so gorgeous. “Slacks” is a portable scene of late night regret and aching honesty set in folktronica paradise...

On her Facebook page, she recently announced a new single, “Get Good”. ... Read More