1. |
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Well yo-ho-hum and a handle of gin
in a constant state of going through some shit
tryna gather what you can before the winter time hits
will these bars all close when we move out to the sticks?
Well let's all gather in 'till there's no place to sit
and pay off the inspector with our charm and our wit
if you hold the mirror right and wipe off the spit
you can almost see where our world was split
God closed all the doors but the bars still open
The devil has a tab says we all can just owe him
They turned on all the lights but we're all still jonesing
for one last pint when the place is closing
All gakked up on that alley medicine
the cadillac of nightcaps let's do it once again
nobody paid the meter maid, send out the kid
or just let the junker have it 'cause the thing is on the fritz
Just one more hit, then let's call it a morning
I gotta write this script before the idea is stolen
I love you all to bits but I just can't keep this going
Everything just goes to shit when the place is closing
Fare thee well, this ne'er-do-well
is off to dance to the sounds of the Sunday bells
I paced a hole in the floor boards of this cell
where all the bad kids go to rehab, and all the good kids can go to hell
Well yo-ho-hum and a handle of gin
in a constant state of going through some shit
tryna gather what you can before the winter time hits
will these bars all close when we move out to the sticks?
God closed all the doors but the bars still open
The devil has a tab says we all can just owe him
They turned on all the lights but we're all still jonesing
for one last pint when the place is closing
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2. |
Lonesome No More
03:10
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There's a letter on my desk that I'm tryna get right
there are tulips in the window that I'm tryna keep alive
and there's this old photograph that I look at more and more
all these puzzle pieces are scattered 'round the floor
I'll reach out until my limbs are torn
stand out in the rain with my face to the storm
and i'll ride these waves all the way to the shore
and one day soon I'll be lonesome no more
There's a record player playing bring it on home
and there's a hundred different reasons why I'm listening alone
and there's a thousand little tears in this costume that I wear
and there's a million little flames that are smoking up my air
I'll reach out until my limbs are torn
stand out in the rain with my face to the storm
and i'll ride these waves all the way to the shore
and one day soon I'll be lonesome no more
I didn't mind the silence when the silence was a choice
I didn't mind my thoughts when they were simple and pure
I didn't mind the dance when there was rhythm to the noise
but now my feet are out of step, and the music's in reverse
and every word sounds more like a curse
There's a letter on my desk that I'm tryna get right
there are tulips in the window that I'm tryna keep alive
and there's this old photograph that I look at more and more
all these puzzle pieces are scattered 'round the floor
I'll reach out until my limbs are torn
stand out in the rain with my face to the storm
and i'll ride these waves all the way to the shore
and one day soon I'll be lonesome no more
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3. |
Dry Month
04:05
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Well I'm flushing down stashes and I'm pouring out bottles
And I'm cleaning out closets of disguises that I've modeled
There's a late bus leaving and I'm squeezing a ticket in my hand
But the sweat melts the paper and I've burned another plan
I'm gonna rest my heart, dry up for a month
Ironically a plan that sounds better when you're drunk
My mind is screaming, my body's hotter than the heater
And I'm caught between calling my doctor or my dealer
I've got a choir of voices I could strike up like a band
But I'm trying to keep things quiet for a minute if I can
Was it the booze that fueled the engine that sent me down this broken boulevard
Or did the fates just place me in a beater of a car
For my heart, I'll dry up for a month
Ironically a plan that sounds better when you're drunk
My mind is screaming, my body's hotter than the heater
And I'm caught between calling my doctor or my dealer
To hell with kicking up a storm on this back alley medicine
And dancing with the skeletons alone
Losing days into the black, as the clock strikes back
I never thought it'd get this bad
But I'm flushing down stashes and I'm pouring out bottles
And I'm cleaning out closets of disguises that I've modeled
There's a late bus leaving and I'm squeezing a ticket in my hand
But the sweat melts the paper and I've burned another plan
I'm gonna rest my heart, dry up for a month
Ironically a plan that sounds better when you're drunk
My mind is screaming, my body's hotter than the heater
And I'm caught between calling my doctor or my dealer
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4. |
Blue Linen
03:56
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These are the days that won't go away
where we think about death in a queit malaise
and the photos on the wall, crooked and unframed
they bleed out their colours 'till they're uniform grey
you want to call a friend, but you don't want to concern them
so you slip into a spiral of warm introversion
and stare into the mirror so long
that you start to see another person
These are the days
cut from blue linen just for us
to sit
and think about what we've done
How long, how low will this episode go
these winds blow heavy on the backs of the crows
rolling that boulder, it's all that you know
this mountain is chilly on your bones and your soul
and another year down, well how about that
born into light, slip into something more black
and stare into the mirror so long that you lose track
of who you're looking at
These are the days
cut from blue linen just for us
to sit
and think about what we've done
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5. |
Cigarettes in Windstorms
02:29
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When the street is empty in the middle of the night
You can almost hear the city sigh
My dreams used to have a diamond shine
Now I walk around with a mind full of rye
The raindrops clean my boots off
And it doesn't hurt a bit
In this windstorm tryna get this cigarette lit
Lord bless this mess of meat and bones
Got a body like a tree and a brain like a snow globe
Dreams used to be worth more than gold
Now I walk around with a pocketful of coal
The raindrops clean my boots off
And it doesn't hurt a bit
In this windstorm tryna get this cigarette lit
A shelf of trophies, rusted glory
Time puts a winner in every story
You ever have that dream where you're panicking
and running around your high school halls
I'm very sorry baby if I was drunk
I'm sober now at least 'till lunch
When I die, they oughta write
my obituary in a dive bar stall
When the street is empty in the middle of the night
You can almost hear the city sigh
My dreams used to have a diamond shine
Now I walk around with a mind full of rye
The raindrops clean my boots off
And it doesn't hurt a bit
In this windstorm tryna get this cigarette lit
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6. |
Before
03:45
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Silence goes back like a fifty dollar nightcap
you ever felt a day quite as heavy as that?
meet me by the shack in a record breaking cold snap
leaning against a half mast Canadian flag
I saw the face of Christ in a bowl of minute rice
and I think that I might be really losing it this time
feels like I haven't seen ya since God only knows
do I seem any different than before?
All across my flat my history in photograghs
from toddler to brat to drunken young lad
from hockey cards and baseball bats to Old Milwaukee six packs
and the years that fell between worth nothing but a laugh
I saw my uncles ghost, dressed up in fancy clothes
he was leaning against a Rolls on the dark side of the road
feels like I haven't seen ya since God only knows
do I seem any different than before?
Everything in place and everything in line
I used to have a brain but now I have a mind
I used to feel lonely in a crowded room
never sure what to do
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7. |
Fallen Star
03:14
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Been thinking 'bout bailing out a lot these days
the city kinda sucks now anyways
everything's closed and you're out here all alone
tryna get on a roll, keep sinking like a stone
You're headed back home with a broken heart
burning into town like a fallen star
a slipstream of pipedreams trail behind the car
headed back home with a broken heart
The same old faces just aged a little bit
this bar is kinda lame now that you're legal to get in
your old school bully, 'course he became a cop
said he's headed to the legion for a wobbly pop
You're headed back home with a broken heart
burning into town like a fallen star
a slipstream of pipedreams trail behind the car
headed back home with a broken heart
Empty parking lots and abandoned factories
nowhere you wanna go, no one you wanna see
out back of the arena tryna get stoned
just like when you were young but now you're old
You're headed back home with a broken heart
burning into town like a fallen star
a slipstream of pipedreams trail behind the car
headed back home with a broken heart
How the hell do the memories fade this way
'till you can hardly put names to the pictures that you saved
this town ain't the hell that I remember it being
but I sure left behind a lot of demons
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8. |
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There's a flag outside my window
that's drenched in blood and pain
and seeing it waving out there now
is driving me insane
noise from all around this town
funnels towards my place
as the demons of this restlessness
put claws into my brain
God bless and Gods speed
to whatever sun is left out there
reflecting through this bottle
painting dust across the air
it's getting kinda cold, and I'm growing kinda old
and what I'm seeing through my window
is tearing up my soul
This feeling running through me
lives between my sounds
this feeling running through me
I can't wrap my head around
it's like nostalgia fucked depression
and birthed out obsolescence
and i don't think that there's medicine
to speed this convalescence
God bless and Gods speed
to whatever peace is left
let it break into your mind
and rearrange papers in your desk
it's getting kinda cold, and I'm growing kinda old
and what I'm seeing through my window
is tearing up my soul
Somewhere there's a reason
somewhere there's a cause
stashed away in some cigar box
with some old dead soldiers cross
as I pace between the blockings
of dramatic stress disorder
with war paint on my face
oh the horror, the horror
God bless and Gods speed
to whatever sun is left out there
reflecting through this bottle
painting dust across the air
it's getting kinda cold, and I'm growing kinda old
and what I'm seeing through my window
is tearing up my soul
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9. |
Jonesing
03:31
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I like falling asleep
when everybody else is
headed off to work
And days when my only problem is
tryna find a shirt
without a cigarette burn on it
Oh, this life up close
ain't a Sunday park stroll
or a bed full of roses
just know that whichever way you go
you can also stumble home if you're broke
or jonesing for a smoke
I've been sober since the spring
not even one drink
and nothing up my nose
But I still dig the bliss
of a cough syrup trip
when I'm not even sick
I guess I'm sober in quotes
Oh, this life up close
ain't a Sunday park stroll
or a bed full of roses
just know that whichever way you go
you can also stumble home if you're broke
or jonesing for a smoke
This world it ain't always sunny
ain't a barrel full of monkeys
It's more like an alley
full of grifters and junkies
and you keep on walking
with your hands in your pocket
and keys between your fingers
and wide eye sockets
Oh, this life up close
ain't a Sunday park stroll
or a bed full of roses
just know that whichever way you go
you can also stumble home if you're broke
or jonesing for a smoke
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10. |
Two Caps of Medicine
02:16
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Two caps of medicine
A covert nightly regiment
Dark red and warm
Like the calm before a storm
Moonlight is cast on a thousand fractured dreams
You're always sick from something it seems
Walk around the block
And ease off all these thoughts
And think about how great things are going these days
But the wind blows heavy on a narrow street
And you're always sick from something it seems
The kind of foolish ghoul who is dyed in the wool
And believes his own conspiracies
Like everyone's an enemy
And your light shines but it dies in the window
Of the tower that shakes as I lie here awake, on...
Two caps of medicine
A covert nightly regiment
Dark red and warm
Like the calm before a storm
Moonlight is cast on a thousand fractured dreams
You're always sick from something it seems
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11. |
||||
|
Well yo-ho-hum and a handle of gin
in a constant state of going through some shit
tryna gather what you can before the winter time hits
will these bars all close when we move out to the sticks?
Well let's all gather in 'till there's no place to sit
and pay off the inspector with our charm and our wit
if you hold the mirror right and wipe off the spit
you can almost see where our world was split
God closed all the doors but the bars still open
The devil has a tab says we all can just owe him
They turned on all the lights but we're all still jonesing
for one last pint when the place is closing
All gakked up on that alley medicine
the cadillac of nightcaps let's do it once again
nobody paid the meter maid, send out the kid
or just let the junker have it 'cause the thing is on the fritz
Just one more hit, then let's call it a morning
I gotta write this script before the idea is stolen
I love you all to bits but I just can't keep this going
Everything just goes to shit when the place is closing
Fare thee well, this neaderwell
is off to dance to the sounds of the Sunday bells
I paced a hole in the floor boards of this cell
where all the bad kids go to rehab, and all the good kids can go to hell
Well yo-ho-hum and a handle of gin
in a constant state of going through some shit
tryna gather what you can before the winter time hits
will these bars all close when we move out to the sticks?
Well let's all gather in 'till there's no place to sit
and pay off the inspector with our charm and our wit
if you hold the mirror right and wipe off the spit
you can almost see where our world was split
God closed all the doors but the bars still open
The devil has a tab says we all can just owe him
They turned on all the lights but we're all still jonesing
for one last pint when the place is closing
|
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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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