Get all 7 Red Meat Records releases available on Bandcamp and save 20%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Midnight In The Bone Orchard, A Dying Man Can Sure Sing The Blues, Episode One, Postcards From Deadeye, Alcohol Tobacco Raygun?, Death Row Hoedown, and Terrible Stories.
1. |
Gunslinger
03:12
|
|||
Eight miles east of Deadeye
Rotting in an unmarked grave
Lie the bodies of Silas Harlow Johnson
And the woman that he tried to save.
And no-one lifts a finger
No-one makes a sound
People keep their mouths shut in Deadeye town.
Minding their own business
Keep your head down
We don't need another gunslinger around
We don't need another gunslinger around
Well the moon cut the night
Like the grim reaper's scythe
As he rolled his old bones back to his hometown.
Searching high and low for his childhood sweeetheart
And a yearning to get married and settle down.
But when he mentioned her name
Folk spat upon the ground
Saying "That's the one whos sells her love
She'll drag a good man down."
Still he set right off to find her
Riding hard across the sand
But she'd never recognise him
As the man who'd offered her his hand.
Cuz he looked like some kind of gunslinger
Eyes all roling, wild and red
And as he reached for his breast pocket
She shot her childhood sweetheart dead.
And no-one lifts a finger
No-one makes a sound
People keep their mouths shut in Deadeye town.
Minding their own business
Keep your head down
We don't need another gunslinger around
We don't need another gunslinger around
And as she stared into his dying eyes
She realised what she'd done
For he was reaching for a bible
Not reaching for a gun
And when she saw that the man she'd murdered
Was the man she should have wed
She took a hatpin from her dresser
And drove it through her aching breast
And no-one lifts a finger
No-one makes a sound
People keep their mouths shut in Deadeye town.
Minding their own business
Keep your head down
We don't need another two-bit hooker around
We don't need another two-bit hooker around
And that's why eight miles east of Deadeye
Rotting in an unmarked grave
Lie the bodies of Silas Harlow Johnson
And the woman that he tried to save
|
||||
2. |
Twisted, Sick And Bitter
05:04
|
|||
I'm a twisted, sick and bitter asshole.
I'll get even any way I can.
Screwed over by some dumb bitch from Walthamstow
I caught her messing with another man.
So I adjusted my stetson
And loaded my best gun
(The bone-handled, nickle-plated Smith and Wesson).
Cuz I'm a twisted, sick and bitter man.
Peace and love were hardly overflowing
As I rode the bus cross town to my baby's flat.
I drunk everything that she had going
And when the booze ran out I shot her in the back.
Then I dragged her outside and started shovelling dirt
But the beat-bobby caught me with blood on my shirt
And he booked this twisted, sick and bitter man.
When the jury heard the nasty things that I did
They thought themselves the butt of some sick joke.
It wasn't long before they'd all decided
To let my cracker ass swing from a rope.
And the judge said he though there could have never existed
A man so bitter, sick and twisted.
And I'm that twisted, sick and bitter man.
So come on you good people gather round
As they dump my stinking body in the ground
Feel the rain and hear the rolling thunder
I'll be just as sick and twisted six feet under.
Yeah so long, suckers, I'll see you in hell
But by then I'll have a few more good stories to tell.
Here lies a twisted, sick and bitter man.
Yeah it's a long way down, but down we shall go.
And the devil himself may try and keep up if he can
With this twisted, sick and bitter man.
|
||||
3. |
Life's Not Fair
04:23
|
|||
Jimmy Brown quit town 'til the buzz died down
Spent twenty-five days on the run.
All that he got for his time and his trouble
Was a bible and a smoking gun.
Hooked up with Beth in a Little Chef
Said he'd like to try again.
All that she got for her time and her trouble
Was a seven mile walk in the rain.
And he said "Honey, I left the money
In the closet under the stairs."
But home-brewed win and turpentine
Were all that she'd find in there.
Yeah that day she learned a lot:
Life's not fair.
Jonah dumped the Rover somewhere outside Dover
Headed over to his old-man's place.
All that he got for his time and his trouble
Was the smile wiped from his face.
Spent six month's in his pa's garage
Sleeping in the pigeonloft.
All that he got for his time and trouble
Were diptheria and whooping cough.
And his old-man said "I'll be damned
If I'll hide away in fear.
Come on son, take your gun
We're getting out of here."
Yeah that day they learned a lot:
Life's kind of weird.
Hope quit the dope for God and the Pope
Her friends didn't treat her very nice
All that she got for her time and her trouble
Was eternity in paradise.
Finally hitched a ride from a fat old trucker
I guess he thought his luck was in
But all that he got for his time and his trouble
Was a warning on the wages of sin.
And he said "babe, there's no way
That you're getting in this truck
If you're gonna whine on all night
Like some religious nut.
Yeah that day she learned a lot:
Life really sucks.
And on days like these I need speed
To get me out of bed.
I crave caffeine and nicotine
To calm my aching head.
Yeah you can give life all you got
You still end up dead.
|
||||
4. |
Three Horses Pig
04:02
|
|||
In Texas I sweated like a pig.
Rolled into a small town
It was three horses big.
And under a cold-blooded sky
I feasted on crickets
And drank cactus wine.
In Texas I sweated like a sow.
Rolled into a ditch
And couldn't get out
And over the razorback plains
I rode a coyote
Through sheet-metal rain.
And I'll lay my head on the rocks and stones
With the glow-worms and the chicken bones.
In Kansas they cut me down to size
With blood on my windshield
And dust in my eyes
They told me it was for my own good
Left me naked and bleeding in Black River Wood.
In Kansas they cut me to the quick
They stoned me with stones
And struck me with sticks.
I wandered through deserts of snow
And sheltered in caves
Where the bone-thistles grow.
And I'll lay my head on the rocks and stones
With the glow-worms and the chicken bones.
In Georgia I shot down the stars
And sold them downtown
From the boot of my car.
I kidnapped the moon and the sun
Kept the whole word in darkness
While I had some fun.
And I'll lay my head on the rocks and stones
With the glow-worms and the chicken bones.
And I'll be alright, yes I'll be alright
In this beat-up, no-good, bad-blood, driftwood
Dyed-in-the-wool Deadeye town tonight.
|
||||
5. |
||||
I wish to the Lord that I'd never been born
Or died when I was young
Then I never would have seen your sparkling blue eyes
Or heard your lying tongue.
All the good times are past and gone
All the good times are o'er.
All the good times are past and gone
Little darling don't you weep no more.
I wish to the Lord that I'd never been born
Or died in my dear mother's arms
Then I never would have kissed your ruby-red lips
Or buried you under the barn.
All the good times are past and gone
All the good times are o'er.
All the good times are past and gone
Little darling don't you weep no more.
I wish to the Lord that I'd never been born
Or died in the third or fourth grade
Then I never would have gave you the whole of my heart
Or finished you off with that spade.
All the good times are past and gone
All the good times are o'er.
All the good times are past and gone
Little darling don't you weep no more.
|
Red Meat Records Bradford On Avon, UK
The musical output of Mr. James R. Closs. Skunkworks recording artist since 1999. Muleskinner Jones | The Faceless Corporation
Streaming and Download help
If you like Postcards From Deadeye, you may also like:
Bandcamp Daily your guide to the world of Bandcamp