Get all 26 Patrick Canning releases available on Bandcamp and save 70%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Real Person Magazine, Rictal Palm Mock, Rust Protection Maintenance, Happy Seasons, Rose Panic Mother, A Year Of February, Repurposed Provincial Monument, Rendered Pelican Mascara, and 18 more.
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a motorcade
a tidal wave
a hurricane couldn't keep me from your home
this secret art
of drawing hearts
and smiling hard is nothing I condone
I'll try to sue
or murder you
if I should lose a morsel of your soul
that's something that I can't control
this greasey jungle sacrifice
I'll make you take the wrong end of my knife
these mouths that run on endlessly
they cannot taste the apples on your tree
don't take that all away from me
the sores are healing where I stand
got my soup ticket in hand
the greatest drug in all the land
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2. |
Black Mud
05:28
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somewhere, somewhere
in the black mud of home I hear
a black dog, a black dog
screams out I'm trapped in here
and my hands went black as I held the dirt
and he bit my arm and ripped my shirt
the flys were thick and they stung his eyes
and he dug his claws deep in my thighs
and I screamed out "old man
why'd you hurt me again?"
again
so sing on, sing on
I'll bring the black flies home with me
and I'll turn black and walk back
the mud black dog trailing at my feet
and the river flows behind my home
and I dove in to wash my bones
the black dog caught a trout to eat
and we ate the fish down at my feet
and our eyes met and ge said
"I'll make sure that your fed
my sweet"
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3. |
Crooked Laughter
05:03
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grumble grumble grumble
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4. |
Take Me To The Farm
06:32
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Take me to the farm
I will hug all the animals
before I send them away
take a sweater keep me warm
bonfires laughing at the end of the day
and leave me with a bottle
I will christen everyone
with ships leaving to go
away far away
with their sails in the wind
through the night
follow the white distant lights
far away distant lights far away
and take me in your car
and drive me to the house
and think you might never leave the drive
we'll never go that far
the way you hold my heart inside your mouth
all this time all the lies
summertime in your eyes
not alone not alone
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5. |
Return Policy
02:38
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I want a refund for my heart
it was broken from the start
and I still have the full warantee
it was defective can't you see
your return policy
better cover the damage it shows
looked so good on the shelf
as new organs go it was an impulse buy
the sales rep she told me
it should last me for dozens of years
the instruction booknever counted you in
the first chick I saw at the bar
you couldn't wait to try it out
and it broke when we left in your car
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6. |
Boiling Onions
07:08
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when I saw him the last time
there was nothing to do for him them
his head was an onion
that was boiled and then peeled to the stem
we ran to the shoreline and waited for the ship to come in
but we waited until sunrise and slowly walked back to the den
checked for clothes and razor
made sure our prints were gone
press our ear to the highway
and sang this army song
the seagulls harmonize
their cold open throats
rape the wind as we ride
found our way to a city
and got jobs in disguise
saved all of our money
and saved a hoard of supplies
found a house in the country
raised cows from dusk til dawn
raised a small little family
and kept our curtains drawn
for there are lions in the hillside
there are serpents in the field
there are wolves there
there are tigers
there are cobras and black widow spiders
you ask why I'm laughing
well I've stopped pretending to cry
i'll just sit with the passenger
with the flare gun and watch by his side
stick our necks through the foam
and keep a close watch on the tide
keep our lives in a box
and throw our papers out the side
and as soon as the day breaks
I'll send a signal out to you
don't wait up for me darling
this road goes one way through
do you realise there's no end?
do you realise there's no end?
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7. |
Here Come The Drunks
06:37
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here come the drunks lets bring it on
here’s another lousy song
the blackest hole in the world
isn’t black enough for this girl
greasy jingle beady eyes
greasy stink on suck lip thighs
old burnt out racetrack lips
creamy hands and streaming shit
and alone all alone
they were singing to no one
that the wheel that turns the world has got a driver we can trust
you can’t believe you can’t believe what everybody thinks of us
and our money
enter the broken little man
the floor is piss-stained where he stands
the blackest liquor in the store
isn’t black enough for the door
you grab my ankles and I fall
there’s no light on in the hall
here come the drunks lets take it out
they can’t hear they only shout
and alone all alone
they were singing to no one
that the wheel that turns the world has got a driver we can trust
you can’t believe you can’t believe what everybody thinks of us
and our money
and the artist paints a picture of a boat that’s in a storm
you wrap your arms around the girl you hope tonight will keep you warm
you can’t sit down you can’t sit down you know the man that’s in your chair
you walk away your sweaty hands are running through your greasy hair
you wander to your homely room and find your way into your bed
and the point of every knife is aim directly at your head
and your humming....hmmmm
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8. |
The Ocean Isn't Big
06:25
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the ocean isn’t half as big
as I have heard it said
and if I could I’d try to find you
at your journeys end
and pull your frigid hands around me
and hold me in the dirt
rock me like an ocean liner
until my stomach hurts
don’t make me have to close my eyes
and find you in the dark
tell me, tell me where you are
and don’t kiss me on the eye
don’t make try to swim
don’t tie me to the hook
and try to lure those fishes in
and if your hands should touch the spot
where I had struck my head
I would think of all the times
you stained my weary bed
and fed me oysters with your hands
until I’m soaking wet
throw me in that ocean valley
I would not regret
cause you cannot give me anything
that I already have
just hold me, hold me in your hands.
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Patrick Canning St. John'S, Newfoundland and Labrador
Patrick is an artist type who lives out on the edge of nowhere in St. John's Newfoundland and makes music for himself.
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