1. |
Feynights
03:50
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I hear the door slam and then the tyres squeal,
It's how we say goodnight sometimes.
That boy she's with is wrong, i sense it i can feel,
My little girl used to call feynights.
And she's grown to bigger, better, bad
And her will is strong like her old mans
If he touches her he'll lose a hand or two. Or two..
And i want you to know i won't ever let you go no matter how far removed.
And i won't move a jot, i will not move from this spot.
Door is open, please walk through. Oh Eleanor, where the hell are you?
The shotgun by the door is loaded and its cleaned,
That boy will bring her home sometime.
I've moved my comfy chair and i've moved my TV.
This window is my hope my lifeline.
And i cannot leave to get some air,
What if she calls and i'm not there
So i sit here and i stare, for you, for you.
And i want you to know i won't ever let you go no matter how far removed.
And i won't move a jot, i will not move from this spot.
Door is open, please walk through. Oh Eleanor, where the hell are you?
I know we fought and i said things i should not,
But i'm collecting dust you make me worry,
I called you whore and i pointed to the door,
But soon you'll come back home and you'll say sorry.
I'll kiss your head and i'll send you off to bed and say
I always knew that boy wasn't right.
So do i pace or do it just sit here and wait
For my little girl who used to call feynights.
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2. |
Dead Mans Boots
04:07
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It used to be so easy he whispers to himself.
When hard work made you worthy and worth was more than wealth.
My hair is slowly turning to silver at the roots.
My youthful face is cracking under the weight of truth.
The deal got broke by rich white folk, my dues will not arrive.
They pay the trust with bones and dust and still we strain and strive
And I. All i've got is dead mans boots.
And I. All there is is dead mans boots.
What have i been doing he questions everyday.
Was everything for nothing? Has all this gone to waste?
This hangdogs jaw hangs open. I cannot catch my breath
The hay we made was stolen. The summers at an end.
The creaking bones that built the homes the bank now owns are sore.
And blistered hands that tend the land where you stand to break your laws.
And I. All i've got is dead mans boots.
And I. All there is is dead mans boots
If there's nothing to look forward to.
If there's nothing left to work for.
If it's the only way to succeed.
Then i need to create some dead bare feet.
And I will wear my dead mans boots
And I will take these dead mans boots.
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The Highwire Calamity Gravesend, UK
Aiming for somewhere between Arcade Fire and Murder By Death, usually missing
wildly.
I had songs that weren't right for my other band (3dbsdown.bandcamp.com), so I started demoing them for myself. It has got a bit out of hand. I'd like to record more songs properly but that costs money, so all contributions gratefully accepted.
... more
The Highwire Calamity recommends:
Bitter Drink, Bitter Moon
by Murder By Death
If you don't know MBD then think americana/desert/whisky. This and In Bocca are my favourites but i love them all. I've been singing Lost River to my son every night for 3 years. Just beautiful.
go to album
Gemma Ray makes albums of incredibly atmospheric dark little pop songs, and her most recent is no different. Easy to get lost in for a while.
go to albumIf you like The Highwire Calamity, you may also like:
Quilt Floor (Full Length LP)
by Mama Zu
The last project from the late Jessi Zazu of Those Darlins is fiery, bright rock and roll that's an affirmation of music and life.
go to album
Carla Geneve returns with a record of jittery alt-rock, topped with lyrics that are both wry and introspective.
go to album
Smoke from the Chimney
by Tony Joe White
The posthumous record by the legendary Tony Joe White is full of rugged, smoky blues & Americana, culled from a trove of demos.
go to album
The Rhythm of the City
by John Paul Keith
Classic roots rock with Memphis grit and swagger from singer-songwriter John Paul Keith, on Wild Honey Records.
go to album
