Comes is a plastic sleeve with a fold out insert featuring recording photos and album credits.
Includes unlimited streaming of DRYLAND
via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
ships out within 7 days
There'll be no songs sung for you laid in a pauper's grave. There'll be no shots fired for you laid in a pauper's grave.
And I knew when he spoke the word he knew that I spoke the truth. His heart was dark. Buried deep under the earth. Paved over by streets, sidewalks, and parking lots.
My gaze was sharp and it cut his heart. He bled black. Black blood. Black like a doll's eyes. Black like a shark's eyes rolled back in his head. Staring straight up at his skull.
There was smoke. Second hand smoke. Drifting under the cracks in the doors. Filling up your baths and your drawers. Staining walls and staining teeth. Yellow like wolf's eyes and night.
So he drifted across the county line just beyond the river and below the pine. Found work in a labor camp. He made love to a local tramp. Burned bridges and played cards. Threw dice in closed down bars. But he didn't make a single friend. He through himself from a bridge in the end.
And there was smoke. Second hand smoke. There was dirt. Loose old dirt.