Digisleeve packaging with art by Charlie Devier and a booklet with lyrics !
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lyrics
Hand to hand all our money left a trail through a hole in the fence into some kind of jail. Every wrong-eyed guest and broken nest, make a monument of whatever we left and bury it with us. That’s how they work us. Those aren’t my monkeys, that’s not my circus.
Heard a rumor, heard my old mother tongue, heard the police whistle while a lullaby was sung. Mind the empire and patch that tire, everybody knew it would end in a fire. It usually does. It always ends. In the right kind of heat every rule bends.
I can’t help myself, I won’t be turned away. Though I may suffer the laws of your labyrinth and pay the price of each glorious day. I can’t help myself, I’m still a fool, still thinking I can find a way. Suffering the laws of your labyrinth and paying the price of each glorious day.
What did you lose on that hot road of thorns? How much were you given on the day you were born? Godspeed, my little tumbleweed. If this is all that’s left then it’s all that we need. I remember walking away from a dream. It’s never as easy as it might seem.
Find the kids and say some kind of prayer. What difference does it make if you born nowhere? Oh it’s a fine caprice this bread and grease, but I wish we could have all found a little more peace. Go to sleep little baby, go to sleep wicked beasts, go to sleep failed pilgrims and false priests.
Durham, NC singer-songwriter Skylar Gudasz makes intimate Americana delivered with dry wit and stunningly precise vocal acumen. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 14, 2020