1. |
Cheap Tobacco
03:08
|
|||
|
I will pack up the car
And I'll head down south
To see all the sights
We once spoke so fondly about
Following solid white lines
With my headlights off
Hoping some semi-truck
Might convince me to stop
As engine the hums, in rhythm, with all your favourite songs
The scent of bottle brushes, and cheap tobacco, fills my lungs.
Be on your best behaviour
Speak only in codes
And if you got something to say,
Don’t say anything at all
I hope I never forget it
Till I am all crooked and old
I'd rather leave with a sentiment
But I don’t have any, anymore
As the engine hums, in rhythm, with all your dumb old songs
The scent of bottle brushes, and cheap tobacco, fill my lungs.
Bite into the capsule
Hidden under our tongues
I was saving it for a special moment
But I don’t think it will come
But the engine still hums, in rhythm, with all your favourite songs
and the scent of bottle brushes, and cheap tobacco, fills our lungs.
|
||||
2. |
Escape Artist
03:43
|
|||
|
Wrapped in chains, held over a tank
I've ran out of names, left to thank
Pick my victim out from the crowd
The escape artist is out on the prowl.
And I feel lonely, and I am scared
But I don’t, come up for air
Feel the cold steal your breath
The escape artist takes what’s left.
And as I start to crumble, we’ve been
Far too long beneath the weight, we’ll ask
How the hell we got here
With no dry surface beneath our feet.
|
||||
3. |
||||
|
Dawn your robe and shave your head
Spend every hour collecting useless trinkets
and radiate your fingers to the bone
But don’t get lonely cause its ugly to be alone.
And I can’t read you anymore
Wish I knew where I could stand
Clutch your talismans, burn sage for the spirits
Find a way to fight the, never-ending dread.
Build an obelisk, in the sand
Place your crystals in the corner of your pentagram
Speak through tongues, and hieroglyphs
toes off the escarpment were never gonna come back from this.
|
||||
4. |
Disposable Camera
02:09
|
|||
|
Dirty fingerprints, on a 4 X 6
As the acid eats into the glossy finish
Can almost make out your surroundings
Perched high on your grey suede couch, with gargoyle wings
But I like your style.
Regrowth under bleach blonde hair, shoulder’s length
and over exposure is the least of your laments
And I know it’s not your best, angle
But you do your best with a timer and a flash
But I know it’s not your best, angle
But we all have to live with the dirty photographs
But I like your smile.
|
||||
5. |
Speaking With Ghosts
03:08
|
|||
|
When all the lines of communication have been cut
We will speak through the wigi board, a medium fit for us
And my penmanship is fading, fading by the day
writing letters knowing they’ll never get to you, in no discernible way.
No rest for the souls, of the feet of the wicked
Brood stacked to the ceiling, to the forage I am committed
But don’t step into that corner, because that corner is where I lay
And if I am gonna be there, I'll be there in this home that I have made.
Open up all the windows, and let the cool breeze come in
Let the walls finally speak, they been silenced for all their sins
and All the previous tenants, they lived on all fours
We’ll clear away all the spindly things that take residence in the drawers
But don’t step into that corner, because that corner is where I lay
And if I am gonna be there, I'll be there in the home that I have made.
Open up all the windows, and let the cool breeze come in
Let the walls finally speak, they been silenced for all their sins
And when the beasts get lonely
We will feed them the day,
and Pray to drive our fears away.
We’ll open up all the windows, and let the cool breeze come in
We’ll let these walls finally speak, they have been silenced for all their sins
And if the time is right, we might take the plastic off the furniture
Might even stay here for the night, dependent, on the temperature.
|
||||
6. |
||||
|
I hear music, as my body tries to wrench itself out of its skin
We keep the beast close, hoping he will never learn to bite again
They Pirouette, like ash in the sky fighting over oxygen
They start to fall, But with a head so thick I don’t answer your call
We still live down here
Yeah, we still live down here.
Like Pagans, we dance by the fire illuminated by the light
Like a moth, we will be ingulfed by the flame and the memories surely lost
We’re burning out, Running only on fumes and persistent self-doubt
I hear the call, but the fog is so thick that I have to crawl
But we still live down here
We still live down here.
|
||||
7. |
||||
|
Being cautious to walk on the shady bits,
Of the hot summer pavement
Forgot my own name
Following strangers, to see how they spend their day
Wake up feeling rotten
Because we forgot how to function.
Construct small explosives in the garden shed, while we keep
Keen eyes on the instruments,
Let that boy boil he’s been on for far too long
and don’t stop listening to the same old songs
Wake up feeling rotten
We forgot how to function.
Remind me of all the joyful things
I seem to have forgotten them to,
like a parasail spiralling in the wind
It was all over far too soon.
Try to be a good Christian man
Feed pigeons from stigmata in your hands,
We mark our skin with the number of the beast
All gathered around tables just waiting for the feast
But it’s all gone rotten
We forgot how to function.
|
||||
8. |
When We Return
02:15
|
|||
|
There will be, stray cats, gathered in the kitchen
The smell of old books and foxing on the first editions
Left the way it was
Without a cause
In desperate times
Can put a life on pause
In hopes we will return.
Perhaps a cool breeze will come back in, as long as we are near
we desperately tell ourselves, no other options, we fear
Left the way it was
Without a cause
In desperate times
Can put a life on pause
In hopes we will return.
|
||||
Daniel J Danson recommends:
Tallahassee
by the Mountain Goats
The album that got me to write again. it's hard to pick just one of an amazing discography, lyrically so impressive, and sonically so beautiful, Tallahassee is an amazing achievement in storytelling.
go to albumIf you like Daniel J Danson, you may also like:
The latest from Shana Cleveland is a Californian fantasia that conjures worlds both real and surreal.
go to album
grow your hair long if you’re wanting to see something that you can change
by Field Medic
The new Field Medic LP is the indie rock project's most vulnerable, using sharp humor to make self-reflection emotionally resonant.
go to album
A vibrant vision of "Central Americana" from the Costa Rica-based artist, blending heartland devotionals with playful Tropicália grooves.
go to album
The freak-folk collective's debut is full of rich, haunted vocals and experimental melodies derived from more traditional idioms
go to album
Assorted Orchids
by Assorted Orchids
Hypnotic night music on the latest from Assorted Orchids, with spiraling acoustic guitars and drifting, beatific vocals.
go to album
