Saddest Of Bastards EP
by Benanthrope
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Digital Album
Immediate download of 5-track album in your choice of high-quality MP3, FLAC, or just about any other format you could possibly desire.Buy Now $3 USD or more
1. |
Tuesday Morning Squared
03:10
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2. |
Bomb Shelter In My Mind
05:31
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3. |
Promise Land
04:51
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4. |
Like A Thoroughbred
05:04
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5. |
Finally Don't Care
04:45
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about
This album is the EP of the album soon to be released, that is the result of years of wanting to record my own stuff, but not having the gear, -and then getting the gear.
follow us on facebook @ <http://www.facebook.com/pages/Benanthrope/230948246945323> for all things Benanthropy...
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credits
released 25 January 2012
J. Glenn played drums on 'Bomb Shelter In My Mind'. Ben Anthrope played, wrote, engineered, and produced everything else.
J. Glenn played drums on 'Bomb Shelter In My Mind'. Ben Anthrope played, wrote, engineered, and produced everything else.
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- Track Name: Like A Thoroughbred
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ghost army outlaws
waitin' on the horizon
bone orchard days
just up ahead
bones in my closet
rattle through the darkness
whisperin' me, I'd best to fade
swear to me, you'll carry me, back -to kentucky
through new orleans, and tennessee,
by way, of iron horse...
-hmmm...
i've come a cropper, couldn't care a continental
my better days, gone up the spout
between the grass, n' hay, with a lick and a promise
of aces high, and a hog killin' time
been nailed to the corner, done got the mitten
as a four-flushin' curly wolf, pale apparitions,
keep draggin' me on lord. draggin' me
to my killin' floor...
swear to me, you'll carry me, back -to ky
through new orleans, and tennessee,
by way, of rusty iron, and through the fields,
of cherokee, back through the shadow lands...
-hmmm...
these tribulations, cold hands around my neck,
draggin me to a slow cold hell, so fetch me a bottle,
baby let's get roostered. half over seas, we'll set to sail
a gospel sharp lord, he's beggin' my pardon,
while the spokes fly from my wheel,
hearin' 'pony up boy', from the mouths of flannel,
to stand the gaff of the final mill...
swear to me, you'll carry me, back, to ky
through new orleans, and tennessee, by way
of rusty iron. and through the fields, of cherokee,
back -to appalachia. and please tell ma, I weren't no squaw, but i died, like a thoroughbred.....
