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Thursday, 29 October 2015

Rock-a-bye Daddy

Rock-a-bye Daddy on the treetop
When the Sun comes his body will rot
When the bough breaks his body will fall
Down will come Daddy, slipknot and all

Mama's been tilling through tears like she ain't gonna stop
But Baby's been crying 'cos he don't like the taste of the broth
Ain't nothing here gonna grow
No matter what seed she sews
So Mama's just taken the dirt and put it straight in the pot

Rock-a-bye Daddy on the treetop
When the Wind blows his body will rock
When the bough breaks his body will fall
Down will come Daddy, slipknot and all

No one's been out to the farm now since '76
There's stories 'bout killings & ghosts that you hear from the kids
Then some newlyweds looking for land
Drove up to the farm with a man from the bank
To see about who owns it and turn that dirt into profits

Well the first thing they saw as they drove up to the farm
Was what's left of Daddy still dangling out on that arm
And a little Baby lay
Next to a chair on its side in the hay
And Mama was tied by her neck to the beams of the barn

Tuesday, 20 October 2015

An Angel's Birth

There was an old sound castle
      Made of sand and gravel
            That we built like an outlaw band
About a hitch-hiker rebel
      Who should've won a medal
            For killing that creep and sinking that van
You played that machine
      And the way that it screamed
            Was a blade that was made of wood
That could cut through steel
      And make a hitch-hiker real
            And I still ain't ever played it that good

If I could find
      And share a piece of my mind
            With that old timer they call Death
I'd give him a list
      Of a thousand pieces of shit
            That should've gone first but haven't gone yet
I'd rip him 'bout his job
      Say he's been working too long
            Take that scythe from him, show him I could do it better
I'd ride a pale horse howling
      Like a mad dog dancing like a drunkard
            With a new blade and a dead man's vendetta

For all this hurt
      A man's death is an angel's birth
If there were words and I knew them
      I would use them but I'm sorry I don't
So I'll keep you in mind
      With music dark and feathers white
            And a song about an angel made of beard of bone