Out From the Basement
release date:

March 19, 2014


Out From the Basement

  • 1. Ball Lightning
  • 2. Don't Need Jesus
  • 3. Man in the Shade
  • 4. Dobbin's Drive
  • 5. King Sexy
  • 6. Drinkin' Ashes on a Sunday High
  • 7. Baby Blues
  • 8. Television Skies
  • 9. 3 More Months

Ball Lightning
I’m walkin’ ‘round in these dead man’s boots and I’m feelin’ lucky to be alive.
Just thinkin’ ‘bout all the drugs I’ve abused, all the times I’ve made my mother cry.
Oohoo, Oohoo, Ooh-ooooooooo yeah.

I’ve overdosed in a basement room, going to hell in a hospital bed.
I saw the devil he was singing the blues and I heard the ghost of my dad.
Oohoo, Oohoo, Ooh-ooooooooo yeah.
Don’t Need Jesus
Oh, I don’t need Jesus. No.
Don’t push him on me, I don’t need him. No.
Don’t need a preacher man to decide.
I’m goin to hell baby, I’m going to hell when I die.
Man In the Shade
I am the picture parade.
I am the man in the shade.
Those shaky words astray the morning horn charades, “play me.”

Though, in gambling.
The river with the pretty face. The turn was such a waste.
Then, wasn’t in.
There’s a nightmare in your soul. This trail is going cold.

The sun that sets with greed, a keeper to his tree, Junith prays to thee, lonely faker in me.
I am a promise delayed. I am the man in the shade. Finger thread shred away by the glory worn by day, baby.

Weigh the mistake, feeling lifeless bleeding down on the floor, time went through that door.
Gimes afraid, beauty such a dangerous theif, a place I’ll never leave.
Dobbin’s Drive
Love has gone crazy. Is this the bitter best you can get?
In a town that’s have lazy, it’s easy to be a flakey friend.
Oooooooh. Wah!

The doctor’s half smile, to kill a part of me and get you high.
There’s blood (what?) apron 1795 Dobbin’s drive.
Oooooooh. Wah!
King Sexy
A feminine touch runnin’ through my hair will make me settle down.
Come lay down baby, velvet bed lady, take off my gold crown.
Come lay down!
Drinkin’ Ashes on a Sunday High
Play me a song, that one back when living was fun.
So intensely deep those tears.
Baby, we got a lust for fear.
Singing to me all night long, please don’t go singing when I’m gone.
In the valley where the poisons do flirt.
Staring stranded, naked, alert.

That addiction is just this emotion that keeps this reality in motion.
On the road where my day dreams will die.
It’s hard to hate you baby when you cry.
Going (what) til my car broke down, way out in the middle of town.
Every one is on their phone, and I’ve never felt so alone.

Pissin’ on each other’s dreams was the worst movie I’ve seen.
Where the actors were dead or alive,
Drinkin’ Ashes on a Sunday High.
Be Drinkin’ Ashes on a Sunday High.
We’ll be Drinkin’ Ashes on a Sunday High.
Baby Blues
Hold me tight like a baby.
Don’t ever let me down.
Throw me up in the air girl.
I’ll float up into the clouds.

Look into my cloudy blue eyes.
Listen to my serpent tongue.
Sing into my baby ears.
I’m screaming out my black hole lungs.
Television Skies (poem)
With skin covered eyes and opiate dreams.
So deep in your mind what does the brain see.
Weird paper people and choppy animation.
They’re looking back at you, twitching their eyes.
Who are they, who are you?
Are you dreaming them or are they dreaming you?

Driving around in a black and white world behind the dashboard of a 1950’s car.
Turning the wheel, the backdrops are real.
A pencil drawn donkey hops across the road coloring your world with its tail.

Your eyes flicker up just before the dream dies and there is static on the air in your television skies.

3 More Months
3 more months we’ll be at ease.
Whispering junky on his opiate spree.
Here’s to stairwell rumour skelital or boat.
Here’s to kid skipping stones in the alligator’s moat.

3 more months another dead beat dream.
Staggering mistriss dolled up like a queen.
Here’s to the real and just peach bomb bliss.
Here’s to missing fun a goodbye kiss.