1. |
G&T
04:13
|
|
||
G&T
Gingerflower and Tangerine,
Laid waste to the land,
And they poisoned the streams,
And they go where they wanna go,
Do as they please,
See what they wanna see;
Don’t they see me?
Gingerflower and Tangerine,
Bound by crimson hands,
Soaked in suns sheen,
And they know what I’ll never know,
Drifting with ease,
Be who they wanna be;
Nothing like me.
Gingerflower and Tangerine,
Died in foreign sands,
Careless and free,
They loved like no other love,
Like summer loves breeze,
And they sleep when they wanna sleep;
Sleeping like me.
|
||||
2. |
Bloodlines
03:11
|
|
||
Bloodlines
Break of the day,
See's me paving the way,
Black velvet crumbling,
Bodies are tumbling,
Undercover.
Droll sympathies,
Are exhumed when they sneeze,
Blushing so awkwardly,
Staring out to the sea,
By their brothers.
Druids of time,
Never say their goodbyes,
Whimsical effigies,
Makes them so hard to please,
To one another.
Athletes of war,
Are washed up on the shore,
Jaws dropping on the beach,
Home is so far from reach –
Cries for mothers.
Channels of sand,
Caress bloodlines in hands,
Poppies whose roots are in,
Men's opened veins again,
Will be discovered.
|
||||
3. |
Senses
03:17
|
|
||
Senses
Observe and walk away,
No eye can see it all,
For love is a’blind,
And so’s the darkness.
Dig down and smell the dirt,
Rotting pine turns up your nose,
The fumes of love,
They’ll never leave you.
Then when the buzzard calls,
Down through the creaking firs,
You’ll hear your life,
Picked clean right out you.
Never trust your heart my friend,
This prisoner in a cage,
With a gentle touch,
You’ll fall a’tumbling.
Taste the heat that burns your lips,
The curve of her smile still shines,
But the kiss is gone,
Just like my senses.
|
||||
4. |
Last Exit
05:45
|
|
||
Last Exit
Going home,
But I don't know where it is.
I just know,
That I'm going home.
I was born in the snow,
Bones ached like breaking chains.
I tried to call so she'd hear;
My last goodbye to her again.
I tried to stand, all alone;
Smile like a spreading stain.
I heard her call, she was near;
A melody of bitter pain.
But I'm on my way home,
And I called to say,
That I'm on my way home;
I'm on my way.
Early morn on the road;
Footsteps like broken rain.
I sing so course and clear;
Like dirty words on a window pane.
I saw a flame, tried to smoke;
Laughter like a speeding train.
She was gone and I was here;
Selfish and full of blame.
But I'm on my way home,
And I've dug my grave,
And I'm on my way home;
I'm on my way.
|
These Thoughts From Cullaloe recommends:
If you like These Thoughts From Cullaloe, you may also like:
Bandcamp Daily your guide to the world of Bandcamp