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Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of SOMETHING IN US NEVER DIES, MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM SCOTLAND, and THE GIRL WHO CRIED FOR THE BOY WHO CRIED WOLF.
1. |
Foreign
04:17
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This is all so far removed and foreign
Our gracious voices dwindled to a lull
You once read me verses in old forgotten English
From paper thin like tracing sheets, all fragile
You wrote me lines now creased and tucked into the top drawer
They’ll survive at least
I didn’t cross the sea to repeat the small hours
I missed most the jests and tomfoolery
And I drifted down the vast streets and tower blocks
And in your absence it became transitory
I thought it best to scrap the paper, cap the pens
Cause conversation’s futile when its hollow
And we aren’t to meet again
Words are a weapon
So carefully sharpened
And thrown when the bottle runs dry
Though Scotch is a seller
Of falsehoods and fiction
Know I still had a hell of a time
Loss is a creature you can’t outrun
Like a bear on hind legs
Or men with guns
Loss is a creature you can’t outrun
Like a bear on hind legs
Or men with guns
Loss is a creature you can’t outrun
Like a bear on hind legs
Or men with guns
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2. |
Back From The Brink
03:45
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Doused in teeming rain
This year has wound down
We’re wound up back now
In this landlocked town
In a sea of friends to see the hours out
She burrows her smile in his neck
The kick drum resonates like a pine drop pulse in our chests
You’re going out west at first light
So slow our senses now and rerun the good nights
The good, the good
This was doing something with heart
It was tearing at the seams
It was building from the rubble
Like your father ingrained
This was doing something with heart
And tearing at the seams
Back from the brink of ruin
Hellbend on good days
Back from the brink of ruin
Hellbend on good days
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3. |
Leave Us, Leave Us
03:17
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I hear the scratch of the chair
And the clink of the porcelain
As your cap toes tap down
Upon the old marble floor
And the manuscript lays
Always unopened
You stare down upon it
And overlook the notes
And pulled in tight to the keys
You utter
Count me in
And weary faces grow
Singing, leave us, leave us, go
A ghost wades through the walls at night
And winds film towards my eyes
Antique scenes and old clockwork radio
And pulled in tight to the keys
You utter
Count me in
Two, three, four
And weary faces grow
Singing, leave us, leave us, go
A ghost wades through the walls at night
And winds film towards my eyes
Antique scenes and old clockwork radio
Antique scenes and old clockwork radio
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4. |
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And the streetlights they were flickering
Outside rows of quiet homes
As the doors were shut and bolted
And the sea whispered a drone
But down the backstreets and the alleys
Ran a girl of twenty one
Until she crept into the stable
Where she met the farmer’s son
And with nothing to his name
Except the girl he said he loved
She’d bring clothes and food and matches
Until days had turned to months
For he’d stole and squandered money
Saw another take the blame
He cried wolf once too many
And shamed his own father’s name
But he said
'We’ll take to the sea
And I will row us to another shore
Without you there on the water
I’ll stay the weak man
I’ll never be more’
And so the morning of the next
She fled towards the harbour wall
Set a note down to her mother
Locked the door and left it all
But as her eyes skimmed on the water
Her boat was left untied
Her lover gripped the oars and there he left
Upon the tide
And dark, dark was the day
She walked back the fool
The girl, the girl who cried
For the boy who cried wolf
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5. |
No Snake Grown Skin
04:23
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That worn soul
He’s slowing to a crawl
He sparks a pipe up by the old scout club wall
And he dithers though the old clique
Will come running through the close
As he’ll do tomorrow
And he did three days ago
She shakes a box
Down a crowded rush hour road
I drop three coins in
For a youth I’ll never know
And she’ll tread on tenterhooks
As they seer her bus stop with cigarette sticks
Who’ll greet the weekend in roars and the threat of a Glasgow kiss
I’m just toing and froing
And hell I’m getting older
This is no snake grown skin
Oh reckless grit hatch out
My cells while you can
While I’ve got colour left
While I’ve got colour
Oh these streets are growing grey
But they’re a stoic to their ills
Each house just a waiting room
In a ward for the next cheap thrill
But my blood is laced with cinders
And those cinders want to rouse flames
It’s a want, a stirring of faith
That there’s more than a life preordained
I’m just toing and froing
And hell I’m getting older
This is no snake grown skin
Oh reckless grit hatch out
My cells while you can
While I’ve got colour left
While I’ve got colour left
I’m just toing and froing
And hell I’m getting older
This is no snake grown skin that I’m in
Oh reckless grit hatch out
My cells while you can
While I’ve got colour left
Oh we’re always on the cusp
It’s never love, it’s always lust
But if that’s enough, that’s enough
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6. |
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It was in sweet Senegal that my foes did me enthrall
For the lands of Virginia, -ginia, O
Torn from that lovely shore, and must never see it more
And alas! I am weary, weary O
All on that charming coast is no bitter snow and frost
Like the lands of Virginia, -ginia, O
Their streams for ever flow, and their flowers for ever blow
And alas! I am weary, weary O
The burden I must bear, while the cruel scourge I fear
In the lands of Virginia, -ginia, O
And I think on friends most dear, with a bitter, bitter tear
And alas! I am weary, weary O
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7. |
Fare Forward
04:14
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A spark broke the dark
His teeth held a burnt cigar
And he swigged down the last
From his old man’s flask
His hoarse voice breathed of the hard days
His hoarse voice breathed them out
A shipwright from twenty four
Scars from the timber floor
Built through the bright nights
Four summers dock side
By that winter he’d gone to war
By that winter he’d gone to war
Fare forward til you take on water
Til the sea is howling,
‘I’m sorry you’re drowning’
Til the storms give in
Learns not to throw you wagers
And the sight of home
Is that bit nearer
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8. |
Rest And Be Thankful
03:15
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The mist beyond the hill that was a silver coloured cloak
And hid their eyes from the long toil of the road
Has cleared to show them warning
Of a tired and blighted morning
With another hell of a way to go
And the muscles in his legs are twitching underneath his skin
The hooves are slowing steady to a stop
And the pass begins to spiral
Like a staircase of a thousand
Where the steepest steps are bathed in glassy frost
The glimmer of a light that fought its hardest through the grey
Is now a shadow of the hope it was before
And the dread has left them praying
That the darkness won’t coming fleeing
And they’ll reach rest and be thankful without woe
The track it winds and narrows to unnerve the faint of hearts
But there’s solace in their last leg to the stone
As if the albatross had fallen
Into view there rises Lomond
And with that they lay their weary bodies down
But night it had plans of treachery
A terrible tempest cast
A chill that would crack the toughest bones
A winter worse than the last
As if an old forgotten scripture, taking pity on their hands
Lifted back the curtain of the morn’
Thankful for their rest and for the blood still circling, blessed
They made it through the night and carried on
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9. |
The Last Projectionist
03:28
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Burn a cue dot
Spin out the reel
You’re the heart of this crash
I’m the hand at the wheel
Burn a cue dot
Spin out the reel
You’re no more than a passing
Another coin in the well
Burn a cue dot
Spin out the reel
Take us now to the last frame
If this is all that love has left to deal
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10. |
Thomson
04:47
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Let’s take the edge off
With another shot
Prise your eyes from the feet lining the floor
There’s always tomorrow
To right these ruinous
Ruinous wrongs
You, you put yourself in the firing line
Wrapped in arms that don’t fit you right
And you lose your footing when they pull the rug
From underneath your dug in heels
It’s the price you pay
For the company you keep
Oh now you’ve lost the hard luck face
Tore out the dog-eared pages
That’ve got you swinging in to reverse
Now you’re eyes are bright
With hindsight
You, you put yourself in the firing line
Wrapped in arms that don’t fit you right
And you lose your footing when they pull the rug
From underneath your dug in heels
It’s the price you pay
For the company you keep
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Laurie Cameron UK
NEW ALBUM "SOMETHING IN US NEVER DIES" OUT NOW!
Also available:
Sunday Herald Top 10 Scottish Album of the Year - "THE GIRL WHO CRIED FOR THE BOY WHO CRIED WOLF"
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