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Baby Grand | A Portrait of the Arrogant Alcoholic as a Young Man

by GET YOUNG RECORDS

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1.
Some nights my blood moves through the streets of this town. While the Church hymns are circling the dark. And I can feel the heat of the love that I lost. Lighting Marb Reds with the hell in my heart. I’m a molotov. I need that spark. Liquored from the start. I need that spark.
2.
Lonely homes on the road by the lake. That I’ve never been welcomed in. I’m a third rail in a high tension state. Sad voltage I hum for you. A long walk lost on a nicotine cure. If I walk long enough my heart will stop. I want a love that I know can’t exist. I want blood so pure you can drink from it.
3.
I write the words that you’ll someday soon forget. But we deserve together, lying miserably with broken necks. Two years ago you were skin and bone walking through my door. You wrapped your hell around mine. I guess that’s what friends are for. With a heart like a matchhead our friction burned me inside. You always cried wolf. Now you look me in the eyes.
4.
I’ve been up all night waiting on a call. Trying to lose myself in the alcohol. Shane’s singing on my grandfather’s radio. While I haunt myself like a lonely ghost. It’s hard to sleep when the room is burning. Can’t feel a thing I think the plan is working. I’ve got a mind like a loaded gun. You’re a confident fuck. I’m a covetous one. Lucky you you can lose so gracefully. Swan dive into another tragedy.
5.
Don’t put it past me to follow you anywhere. For now. Because this bottle cracks open when I think about it and this mouth only cracks open for this bottle. Pushing all of the hate out of my whole world wouldn’t make you a saint. There’s barely a living thing left in this body. Beat up and torn out from the way the thing started. Remember the kids at that party? Never saw another one after we left. Is living in here living alive? You’re living sweetly satisfied. Pushing all of your love into my dull heart wouldn’t make you an angel. But I hope you wouldn’t. Yeah I hope you wouldn’t.
6.
Retrace my steps back to where you live. We’re a little older and I’ve aged enough for the both of us. You can see it in my eyes. You can see it in the way that I stumble through life like a fool without smarts or grace. Just a stupid kid who learned every lesson far too late. But I’ve always thought well of you, and you know that’s true, but the sucker I am fell for all your lies. No surprise. “Hey what’s the chance of me and you?” Swallow firecrackers. Swallow lit matches right down this aching throat. Knock on your door. Now come outside. The wicks are lit to blow me up right in front of your eyes. No surprise. “Not a chance of me and you.”
7.
I was stuck in my own Goddamn web. I’d been spinning away alone since you left. A silver portrait of us in the bushes of somebody’s backyard. It caught the eye of a boy roaming out of the house where his Ma was. He tore it away. Like he gave a fuck for the work I put in. And we met our world’s end all of a sudden. Left alone with nothing. And you weren’t there when I looked around spinning up and down the lonely walls. I waited up patiently until midnight. And crawled inside. Went upstairs. Then kissed him goodnight on the cheek and emptied every drop of venom I had into his blood stream. Then fell into a deep sleep with a dark, evil smile and a body that grew weak. Got to see the gates of hell and I’ll believe because you know better than that to fucking take me. And I woke up the next morning to a big feast.
8.
White knuckle night in the old house. A lighter flame shines an amber glow then burns out. Whispers carry through the heat pipes. While the old hope darkens the new hope dies. The faucet screams. The ashtray smiles. And learns to laugh with familiar sighs, the ones that keep us up at night. And hell pushes on like a diesel-hearted freightline into the casket of my arms. Stave off sorrow with a steak knife. Ballerina with a bottle down the bannister. Carve your initials in my palm, over the the lifeline. Taste the bitter blood a better burn to bury us. On the roof throwing bricks at the stars. Watching the night sky bleeding out. And I clean up with a gas pump for a shower head. While you drop matches on the ground. Time approaches with the daggers. Just another thorn of life. The dirty hardwood. The darkened ceilings. Can we blame it on the season?
9.
Wave goodbye to the house. Your parents watched the life burn out like a cowboy killer, no filter. And you tell yourself you’ve still got a chance to turn things around, to make shit better. But thats a lie and I know you know it. Your going to take a big swing and royally blow it. Because your a miserable fuck and believe me it’s showing. If I only knew why you stopped singing those old songs. Sad ones. All the time. I was younger. “Oh johnny boy the pipes are calling.” Well where the fuck are they now? Whose to say they ever called anyhow? It was summer we were fools. Fists though windows thinking man we were cool. And time moves so fast when your twenty and you still got nothing to live for.
10.
I’m going to drink myself right back together. And carry the cross you made me forever. And God could come down. And offer heaven before me if I just quit the drink, but I’m always too thirsty.
11.
My blood’s been burning its way up to my skin and the pulse through my limbs flows faster than ever again. The presence you brought with you lies in the folds of the bed and the breaths that we took have all found there way through the vents. Now they’re all talking to me and staring at me as I sleep and I can see you walking away in a pale sheet of smoke at your feet. And I can see you walking away but I thought it was only a dream. I’m drowning in this dry, empty bottle hoping you come back to sleep. I slept through a morning of headaches and bruises today and woke to a feeling that brought it all back quietly. The ghost of your love dragged me by the throat to the phone and I stopped by the store on my way back home around noon. Well now I’m wasted again and you’re fading to grey in my head. You can see it painted on my face. Just a portrait of a bitter old man. And I can see you walking away but I thought it was only a dream. I’m cold in a black oil canvas, watching you paint the lines in.
12.
And our breaths beat so deep and slow. With heartache and creaks in the floors. And light seeps from beneath the door. As the silence calls you home. Now Darling, I hear that whistle blow. Oh Darling I can’t stay anymore. Darling I promise that when I go. I promise you’ll never know.
13.
I’ve been swinging so long all I know is pain. All the dark inside me is starting to look like rain. And I’ve been working as hard as any man can. But without a foundation I’ve found it hard to make my stand. I now know that life is a heartless thing. It will take from you what you can’t steal again. But outgunned I will stand with you. And face the swaying gallows of truth.

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released November 29, 2011

All Songs written and recorded by Baby Grand.
Recorded by Sir Jon Yeston in Glastonbury, CT.

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GET YOUNG RECORDS Boston, Massachusetts

Independent Record Label based out of Massachusetts

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