1. |
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He ain’t the big man no more. I am.
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2. |
The Family Guns
03:49
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|
Packing up my things now down into a bag.
Hit the road before it’s light.
There’s a man at the side of the road,
Nineteen, on the run.
We’re gonna meet our maker tonight,
So bring out the family guns.
Dad’s a loose cannon, can’t keep himself straight.
My brother, he now raises hell.
A girl found dead like a flower by the lake.
Her lover, my best friend, left where he fell.
All this talk about killing me,
Well I ain’t seein’ no one.
You’re gonna meet that maker tonight,
So bring out the family guns.
Pulling in, the scythe to hoe and hew
Hop on the train I’m gonna start anew.
You’d bet your life that you’d seen him before,
A ghost out on the run.
Gather round boys and form a line,
And bring out the family guns.
Yeah, bring out the family guns.
Yeah, bring out the family guns.
And bring out the family guns.
And bring out the family guns.
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3. |
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|
There’s a man outside,
He’s been old forever.
There’s a man in here with me,
Wears sobriety like a gun.
Just another small town song,
Spinning like a broken record.
And I’m just sat here waiting to come undone.
There’s this other guy at work,
He drinks like he’s hurting.
Hits the hammer like
The timber’s gonna fight him back.
He’s tried to talk -
But man, it just ain’t working.
And I’m up a ladder with him,
Feel I’m gonna crack.
Times are hard,
They’d be harder without you.
It’s make a choice:
Do I kill me or try to love you?
And the fields they turn to stone,
My lifeblood boils away.
You can’t love me anymore.
That same guy,
Speaks to me like his own son.
Ain’t no harder job than there is
To raise a man.
Threw my dreams away,
Took my medication.
Mark these words I’ll stake my place
Where heroes stand.
Times are hard,
They’d be harder without you.
It’s make a choice:
Do I kill me or try to love you?
And the fields they turn to stone,
My lifeblood boils away.
You can’t love me anymore.
You can’t love me anymore.
And the fields they turn to stone,
My lifeblood boils away.
You can’t love me anymore.
You can’t love me anymore.
Well now, You can’t love me anymore.
You can’t love me anymore.
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4. |
Kerosene
04:52
|
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|
Life’s a death trap, heart attack,
Boss has got a Cadillac,
I’ll take the bus.
Driving clocked out, knocked back,
Won’t get no handout,
Won’t make a fuss.
I did ten years, no fears,
Rent arrears,
Gonna go sell a lung.
Sittin’ out back,
Waitin’ just like a prisoner,
Fixing to be hung.
I find myself uncaring,
Disappointment unending.
I feel feral and unclean,
But the sky’s alight with Kerosene.
Kerosene.
Chewing on spit,
Scrape the coffee out the lid
And go and make a drink.
Gotta make a plan,
Head’s spinning like a top,
I gotta try to think.
Girl I played with got a tattoo,
Now she’s ended up,
On the street.
Unholy wreck,
Come proselytise,
Boy, she’s gonna make you believe.
I find myself uncaring,
Disappointment unending.
I feel feral and unclean,
But the sky’s alight with Kerosene.
Don’t mean to drown in pity,
Ain’t there nobody listening?
I feel feral and unclean,
But the sky’s alive with Kerosene.
Kerosene.
When I get to hell, they’re gonna take me back
They’re gonna laugh at me, say I fell for the trap
I find myself uncaring,
Disappointment unending.
I feel feral and unclean,
But the sky’s alight with Kerosene.
Don’t mean to drown in pity,
Ain’t there nobody listening?
I feel feral and unclean,
But the sky’s alive with Kerosene.
Kerosene.
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5. |
The Stand
03:04
|
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|
Alive in a rain cloud,
I’m coming down.
All this ambition?
Is dead on the ground.
I’m just waiting to take a stand,
Evermore.
Times they’re a changin’,
This towns a chore.
I bet you changed?
But honey, I changed more.
All these years don’t mean a thing,
Anymore.
Anymore.
Anymore.
Anymore, mhmm.
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6. |
Dog Tired
03:23
|
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|
There’s this weird time between drinking and getting kicked out my head,
Normally eclipsed by Townes waiting round to be dead.
There’s golden light pouring in spotlighting everyone but me.
There’s non-believers but I’m here sabotaging for free.
Cheer up, cheer up, it ain't too bad,
I’m laid up cold and unfeeling.
I’m tired, so tired.
Don’t try and tell me what’s good for me and my soul.
I can’t stay awake in the day, can’t sleep when it’s cold.
I’m twenty-five my next birthday,
These bones feel a hundred years older.
I’m dog tired. So tired.
They’re out here singin’ that they’ve got the blues.
Lighten up, my man, you just ain’t got a clue.
I’m twenty-five my next birthday,
These bones feel a hundred years older.
I’m tired, so tired.
I’m tired, so freaking tired.
|
||||
7. |
Ain't Mean Much To Me
04:44
|
|||
|
You cannot see
The cold light o’ irony.
Wearing flares in your fifties,
And stuck in the Seventies.
Now all the revolutionaries
Reign old and bitterly.
No it ain’t mean much,
No it don’t mean much to me.
Times they’re a changin’,
You’re out running wild.
I don’t need no mirror, baby,
To see I never smile.
Everything comes on in waves
But I sink like a stone.
No it ain’t mean much,
No it don’t mean much to me.
No it ain’t mean much,
No it ain’t mean much to me.
No it ain’t mean much,
No it don’t mean much to me.
You wore me down,
And you cut me so deep.
Snapped both my legs,
Left help out of reach.
Nah, no it don’t mean much to me, baby.
No it don’t mean much to me.
|
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8. |
Word To The Wise
03:46
|
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|
We’ve got those jobs now,
Would you have it any other way?
‘Cause I ain’t growin’ no wiser,
Even though these bones are getting older.
Yeah man, I’m a fiend for nostalgia,
And it kills me coming back to you.
We crossed our hearts and we hoped to die,
Not knowing how soon that would come.
No thoughts to time passing by,
Drinking beers in the woods.
We got those jobs now.
Would you have it any other way?
Yeah cause I’m not getting no wiser,
Even though these bones are getting colder.
Yeah now I’m a fool for nostalgia,
And it kills me coming back to you.
Yeah we got these jobs now,
Would you have it any other way?
I ain’t getting wiser,
In the cold light of day.
Yeah man, I ain’t getting no wiser.
Even though these bones are getting older,
Cause man, I’m a fiend for nostalgia,
But it kills me coming back to you,
Yes it kills me coming back to you.
Yeah, it kills me coming back to you.
|
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9. |
Cold Mountain Wailin'
02:09
|
|||
|
Cold Mountain wailing and I’ve really messed it this time,
We first came here when I was yours’n you were mine.
I got this feeling that our hand, they’re intertwined.
Wipe off the blood’n honey, you’ll be back looking just fine.
If I were a cowboy then girl, well, you’d be my cow.
Ain’t no mistaking the mess we’ve found ourselves in now.
I know you won’t cry, you can’t do much underground,
I’m laying you to rest, anyhow.
Dear Irma, I really think I’ve done it this time,
This girl’s underground’n you’re bleeding back in Adaline.
Laying at the alter, your new man and you in a heap.
My killing makes three, it’ll be four when this gun puts me to sleep.
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10. |
Blue Eyed Son
03:59
|
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|
Well my hands did shake,
And my rifle quaked,
And the whole world
Was awakened in blood.
Had my arms out-reached.
His body bound and meak
As I waited for
The coming flood.
What did you see my blue-eyed son?
Your hardwork is nearly done.
Them cold nights are pulling on in.
This whole world reekin’ of sin.
I laid down my pistol,
Struck away my sword,
And I came riding in
On a horse called War.
Maybe this is what you’re lookin’ for?
And I let him lay,
His body cold as day,
Left my own heart
Just about torn.
What did you see my blue-eyed son?
Your hardwork is nearly done.
Them cold nights are pulling on in.
This whole world is reekin’ of sin.
One more word out of you and I’ll cut you in half.
I just hope you don’t think too bad about me when I’m gone.
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||||
11. |
Dog Tired (Casette)
02:32
|
|||
|
There’s this weird time between drinking and getting kicked out my head,
Normally eclipsed by Townes waiting round to be dead.
There’s golden light pouring in spotlighting everyone but me.
There’s non-believers but I’m here sabotaging for free.
Cheer up, cheer up, it ain't too bad,
I’m laid up cold and unfeeling.
I’m tired, so tired.
Don’t try and tell me what’s good for me and my soul.
I can’t stay awake in the day, can’t sleep when it’s cold.
I’m twenty-five my next birthday,
These bones feel a hundred years older.
I’m dog tired. So tired.
They’re out here singin’ that they’ve got the blues.
Lighten up, my man, you just ain’t got a clue.
I’m twenty-five my next birthday,
These bones feel a hundred years older.
I’m tired, so tired.
I’m tired, so freaking tired.
|
||||
Jack Browning London, UK
25-year-old artist, singer-songwriter and multi-instrumentalist. Touring when I can, recording and painting the rest of the time! Sucker for the American West.
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