1. |
Daisy May
03:58
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When I went down—when I went down—
when I went down, just to see how my lady lay,
she was sittin’ right there, by that that same gray stone
(just where I left her yesterday).
When I laid down—when I laid down—
when I laid me down, in the daisies where my lady lay,
she said, "get off o' my garden, you sad, old man.
Get on out. Don’t come back, 'til you got somethin’ useful to say."
When I wept down—when I wept down—
when I wept down’ my lady, to ask her what did she say,
she just pointed a daisy at yonder gate,
with a look like a stone, till I picked up and walk’ away.
When she went down—when she went down—
when Daisy went down, she was down like a dyin’ day.
When Daisy went down, she was askin’ for me,
sayin’, "play me my song, boy; don’t stop 'til I’m gone’ my way."
She said, "when I go down—when I go down—
when I go down, I want t’ hear my name in tone of A.
When I go down, don’t let me catch you in tears.
Just play me my song, boy, and lay daisies down on my clay."
When I go down—when I go down—
when I lay me down, lay me down where my lady lay.
Carve, “Daisy May’s man,” above the days on my stone.
Leave a space, just in case I find somethin’ else useful to say.
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2. |
Cold Morning Blues
03:39
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Mornin', cold mornin', sweep the street.
The maple leaves are rustlin' around my feet.
It's a far, far whistle from home for me.
Shove along, a-shufflin' down the street.
Stranger, no stranger to these blocks--
I've often left them, 'long the walk,
and the people. Oh, the people, how they love to talk!
Keep my head down, a-headin' down to the postman's box.
I'm grateful for the gray skies to dull the shame.
Faithless in the Midwest, you've got to pray for rain.
Teachers and preachers from my childhood days,
always with their questions, their hands a-raised,
sayin', "Mornin'! Good Mornin'! We've all got our praise to pay!"
Humbled and a-mumblin', I fade away.
I'm grateful for the gray skies to call the game.
Faithless in the Midwest, you've got to pray for rain.
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3. |
Little Girl Blue
03:40
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Oh, but I never kissed you, my little girl blue;
just spent my nights drawin' and thinkin' 'bout you.
Then, after high school, I had to leave town
to sing for the swallows and sleep on the ground.
I remember you well, at your lemonade stand,
how the cool water dripped on your little, pink hands;
and how no one was buyin', but me and your mom,
so you drank it yourself, 'til the streetlights came on.
Then, several years later, when the streetlights came on,
how we crept to the creek with a ball jar of rum
and a fistful of squares that you stole from your mom
and they curled up in rings on the tip of your tongue.
Oh, but I never kissed you, my little girl blue;
just spent my nights drawin' and thinkin' 'bout you.
Then, after high school, I had to leave town
to sing for the swallows and sleep on the ground.
I guess I'll never know, if you think of me still,
how we used to sneak out and get high on the hill;
and how I tried to teach you the words to my song,
just to watch the notes dance on the tip of your tongue.
I suppose you've grown older and hardened your hands.
You've forgotten my songs and your lemonade stand.
I imagine you're married, with kids of your own,
whose lemonade tastes like the day I left home.
Oh, but I never kissed you, my little girl blue;
just spent my nights drawin' and thinkin' 'bout you.
Then, after high school, I had to leave town
to sing for the swallows and sleep on the ground.
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4. |
Save My Own
02:42
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I tried and I tried
to get God on my side,
but he never did like the way I roll.
Lord, he knows I get down
with the clown, every now'n'then.
His laughter is good to my soul.
I grew up in the choir,
singin' psalms to inspire
God's lost children and make them feel fine.
I drank blood from a chalice,
in God's shinin' palace,
but now I crave somethin' stronger than wine.
I tried and I tried
to get God on my side,
but he never did like the way I roll.
Lord, he knows I get down
with the clown, every now'n'then.
His laughter is good to my soul.
So, I traded my lyre
for a harp of desire.
My heart is empty, but my glass is half full.
I need brimstone and fire,
for these old men in the mire,
to make my heartbreakin', hard rock'n'roll.
I tried to get right
and I cried trough the night.
I even lied to get beside that dude.
But, he knows how it is.
Lord, he knows I'm addicted
to that old fashioned, sweet passion fruit.
I tried and I tried
to get God on my side,
but he never did like the way I roll.
Lord, he knows I get down
with the clown, every now'n'then.
I'm gon' have to save my own damned soul.
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5. |
Heelstone Mary
02:33
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Locked in your bedroom
and lookin’ right up at you
shakin’ your hair in the ceilin’ lamp, wearing
your florescent halo,
like a sunwatchin’ heelstone.
I’m head under heel, as you're
foldin' me into your dawn.
O, Repunzel,
throw down your hair
like a bible cord pinned
between velveteen covers.
I’m bendin’ your spine
and your body is good
like the book that he read
to us, Sundays ago.
Don’t worry Mary.
We don’t have to marry
like Mary & Joseph.
I’d rather be Sisyphus,
carryin’ on with you,
rollin’ around with you,
turnin’ you over, and
tumblin’ under your
weight—Ariadne,
opening passages,
I won’t abandon you
there on the island.
I’ll wake up beside you.
We’ll dance like Bacchantes
and pipe-playin’ goatmen.
I’ll move with you, singing,
"Eohoe!" Mary,
I’m no messiah,
but I won’t be burning
the scroll of your memory.
You will be there with me
up on the summit
and I won’t be crucified,
leaving you nothing,
but bread and wine.
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6. |
Indiana Swan Song
01:39
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One day, I'll spy you in a churchyard,
with a blush on your face
and say, "I'll be your first rebellion,
if you'll be my savin' grace;"
and you'll say, "I don't really know you,
but I'm tired o' bein' so good."
We'll steal a picnic baket
and sneak off into the woods.
You can be my buddin' rose,
if I can be your hookin' thorn.
We'll run off to Indiana
to go dancin' in the corn.
We'll run off to Indiana
to go dancin' in the corn,
wearin' nothin', but the clothes
that we've had on since we was born.
O' course, eventually, we'll tire
and I'll collapse into your arms.
I'll be pleased with my surroundings
and decide to buy the farm.
I'll sing the swan song of our love,
as I go spiralin' to the heck,
leave my body in the cornfield
with its arms around your neck,
and go down gladly to the devil,
knowin' you'll be up in heaven,
soon, where roses don't have thorns
in their sides, anymore.
You can be my buddin' rose,
if I can be your hookin' thorn.
We'll run off to Indiana
to go dancin' in the corn.
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Achilles Tenderloin Indiana
"...unforgettable, filled with both intense emotion and playful reflection. You’ll never forget the day you first saw Achilles Tenderloin..."
"File this one under brave, new blues."
Achilles Tenderloin recommends:
This is my favorite band in the world. Also, Kate's cello and vocal harmonies are featured on most of Tincture for Trouble.
go to album
The Growth Project: Chapter 2 (Gypsea Salt)
by Moriah Haven
Achilles Tenderloin's bff Mister Moriah. Mo's mandolin and vocal harmonies are featured on Tincture for Trouble.
go to album
One of the best folk songwriters and musicians on Earth.
go to albumIf you like Achilles Tenderloin, you may also like:
A vibrant vision of "Central Americana" from the Costa Rica-based artist, blending heartland devotionals with playful Tropicália grooves.
go to album
Tense, moody, guitar-forward songs from VanWyck that emphasize tension and fragility.
go to album
Tides of a Teardrop
by Watchhouse (formerly Mandolin Orange)
The forthcoming album from Mandolin Orange blends rustic Americana melodies with aching, orchestral arrangements.
go to album
