1. |
Six Ton Burden Blues
03:41
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Well I’m bad at breaking habits, & I’m worse at making change
Every time I count them those coins all look the same
Time’s taken the dates, the colours dull and faded
There’s a thick layer of rust, that’s forming ‘round the face
My memory is shined, all I remember is the wine
At the mercy of sober thought but I didn’t pay no mind
That first morning train comes rumbling down the line
The light takes the horizon like a fire in the falltime
Six ton burden, got me on my knees
Honey I’ve got the bourbon if you’re drinking with me
You got to take me to the river, and remember me how to pray
Or take me back to town and remind me why I came
See I’ve been shaping life into a dead mans shoes
With a shine on my knife and all my other murder tools
Now the crowd is getting surly, the band is leaving early
And I’m hardly standing sturdy
With these six ton burden blues
If this bad weather is a punishment then I don’t mind the curse
I like to sit in the window sill and watch it get worse
All that’s left on these mornings are empty bottles and words
And the stale smell of cigarettes two hours past burnt
My clothes smell of good death and my mind feels like dirt
The vinyl record’s still spinning and I’m a day late for work
Six ton burden, got me on my knees
Honey I’ve got the bourbon if you’re drinking with me
You got to take me to the river, and remember me how to pray
Or take me back to town and remind me why I came
See I’ve been shaping life into a dead mans shoes
With a shine on my knife and all my other murder tools
Now the pitcher is dead, and the bases are drunk
It’ll take the whole team to stand me up
Six ton burden blues
The blues and greys have a certain kind of taste, and life goes to waste on these ordinary days
The red starts to burn like a maniacal rage, you could trace my steps to the corner of the cage
Six ton burden, got me on my knees
Honey I’ve got the bourbon if you’re drinking with me
You got to take me to the river, and remember me how to pray
Or take me back to town and remind me why I came
See I’ve been shaping life into a dead mans shoes
With a shine on my knife and all my other murder tools
I’m losing and I’m learning, I’m drowning and I’m burning
There’s nothing here for certain
Lord these six ton burden blues
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2. |
Fishing with Pirates
03:13
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Memories sing, like all the angels came back down again
Bittersweet, and slightly off of key like I remembered them
I’ve never prayed, and I lie with my unfaithfulness
But with a tired old notion that some good can still be made of this
It’s crooked to think it so, but the delusion’s calm and warm
A blanket on the weaponry when the horizon shows a storm
From the battlefield sidelines, conquered and divided
Re-up on these war tools to go fishing with the pirates
Memories sing, of summer drinks within the woods
In the winter they’re poured stronger and go down faster than they should
Man if I had known, that being drunk could be this good
I’d have started even earlier I’d have raised one with the nurse
Who delivered me at birth, miss get me something to keep me wired
It’s been a long trip out of non-exsistence and I’m tired
G-d protect, this blessed inner silence
And the silent imposition, I’ve gone fishing with the pirates
Memeories sing, of snowy pathways to the barroom
Winds slicking back my hair, market alleyway stardom
Disconnected, unrelatable, deep and broken departure
And peirce my graveyard skin we all think ourselves as martyrs
In our home of broken glass, who knows just what we were jiving
I must have left behind the dream, when I thought the sun was rising
This ghost of glory, to be my trusted tyrant
From the scene and the sirens I’ve gone fishing with the pirates
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3. |
Back to Her
02:57
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There’s a ten foot bank of snow on the steps, I think I’d best get back to bed
There’s a symphony of crooked sounds in my head
I think I’d best get back to bed
With a thousand goodbyes to the blurs in my sight
And the desert of morning life
I don’t need no coffee, no eggs, no bread
I think I’d best get back to bed
Then I slept most the day and the wasted life burns
I think I’d best get back to work
That’s the thing about time it never ceases to turn
I think I’d best get back to work
I just won’t sleep tonight, I’ll keep the turns tight
Keep my foot off the brake for a while
Try and make it good, for it’s all that I’m worth
I think I’d best get back to work
I know she’s been calling she knows that I’ve heard
I think I’d best get back to her
I made her a promise, I gave her my word
I think I’d best get back to her
With my broken down cart, three whiskeys for a start
Brain hardly blinking but life in my heart
I know she’s been calling she knows that I’ve heard
I think I’d best get back to her
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4. |
Crooked Die
03:46
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I busted my leg up just outside of the station
And I crawled into Jennys bar
Where they asked me for my identification
I showed them my factory mark
There was a hooded figure underneath the streetlamp
Man, I always thought I’d die on the farm
Where we’ve changed all the seasons, & blessed our reasons
Now there ain’t no snow in the yard
But I can’t keep my mind so tame anymore
Can’t keep the dots ‘tween the lines
And I can’t trust myself with the rain anymore
So I stay in the shed to keep dry
But I can’t stand the sound of the rattle on the tin
So I saddle up to battle with the night
And I can’t be bothered with the odds no longer
So I’m rolling with a crooked die
A big ol’ dreamer from a little ol’ town
On the northside of highway 9
A little ol’ town where big ol’ dreamers
Take their big ol’ dreams to lie
When I left behind that little ol’ town
With a mind on the big city time
& chinese food & dive barrooms & litter
& sounds & lights
But I can’t keep my mind so tame anymore
Can’t keep the dots ‘tween the lines
And I can’t trust myself with the rain anymore
So I stay in the shed to keep dry
But I can’t stand the sound of the rattle on the tin
So I saddle up to battle with the night
And I can’t be bothered with the odds no longer
So I’m rolling with a crooked die
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5. |
Garden of Doubt
03:27
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Another hundred words come bleeding from my mind
Forming in the dust of another sleepless night
I try to shift the shores but it doesn’t change the tide
So I’m banking on the moon to help me get it right
The medicine is strong and it won’t come down
I’m lighting up the silence with a match strike of sound
Was sober for a minute but I’m loading up a round
It’s cold where I live right now
Could put the papers in the shelf or the roses in a vase
But I ain’t cleaning up for no one these days
There’s a cold front a-creepin’ & its chill is in the veins
The snow dust on the steps has put a claim on the space
To sink into the dark with your insights blinded
Lights in the air, trailing like a sidewinder
The good things in life take a night off from shining
To sink into the dark flicking fire at the silence
Spend all night tryin’ to figure it out
Planting seeds in the dirt at my garden of doubt
Another broken word to burden this frozen ground
Everything’s funny when I haven’t slept
Stinkin’ like the last cup of burgandy death
With the chimes of lost time ringing jagged in my head
Thoughts mean and jostling the frame of my bed
Go out and get old and grow used to these
Nights you spend praying from two busted knees
Or smile like the winter is something that you need
The sweet summer rests ‘tween the ice and the stream
Another hundred words come bleeding from my mind
Forming in the dust of another sleepless night
I try to shift the shores but it doesn’t change the tide
So I’m banking on the moon to help me get it right
The medicine is strong and it won’t come down
I’m lighting up the silence with a match strike of sound
Was sober for a minute but I’m loading up a round
It’s cold where I live right now
Spend all night tryin’ to figure it out
Planting seeds in the dirt at my garden of doubt
Another broken word to burden this frozen ground
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6. |
Black Horizon
01:50
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Don’t mind me obliging when I see that black horizon
There’s nothing here I feel I couldn’t leave
Burning in daylight and I think I want to die
Until the night time washes it’s love over me
Take account of every lesson and let go of all possession
If there’s nothing here you feel a need to keep
Burning in daylight and I think I want to die
Until the night time washes it’s love over me
And I feel like a loser and I feel like a fiend
Red eyes as the blues wash out my green
I’ve seen darker days and I’ve felt the devils ways
And it’s safe to say I’ll never be the same
Don’t mind me obliging when I see that black horizon
There’s nothing here I feel I couldn’t leave
Burning in daylight and I think I want to die
Until the night time washes it’s love over me
Until the night time washes it’s love over me
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7. |
Rust
04:38
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Burning down the wick, I’ve been lit for so long
Giving up my nights to the glory & the dawn
There must be something that I missed, when I was coming up
I like it when it thunders, I like it when there’s rain on my rust
Stumbling along, the wrong side of some vague line
Been laying down my youth in the graveyard by the mine
There’s any itching in my blood, must be something that I touched
I like it when it thunders, I like it when there’s rain on my rust
There’s a thickness to the heat, & battles on the cusp
Some are stringing up their violins, some are polishing their guns
I’ve raised a fog on my shoreline with cheap sex & cheaper drugs
I like it when it thunders, I like it when there’s rain on my rust
There must be something that I missed, when I was coming up
I like it when it thunders, I like it when there’s rain on my rust
On a whiskey tip, and one sip ain’t enough
I like it when it thunders, I like it when there’s rain on my rust
With the burnout blues in a fire so wild and drunk
I like it when it thunders, I like it when there’s rain on my rust
Bring your murder tools, we’ll crush these pills to dust
I like it when it thunders, I like it when there’s rain on my rust
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Carl Lorusso Jr. Toronto, Ontario
2017 Toronto Independent Music Award nominee for "Best Folk/Roots".
"Carl is a
powerhouse wordsmith whose songs represent the dystopian view of a youthful generation.”
-Harrison Fine, producer, FINE Productions
“Shades of Bob Dylan and Leonard Cohen rolled into his own unique style. Very well written & sung.”
– Randy Skaggs, Q108 Kingston
... more
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