This is my Captain Beefheart meets Tom Waits attempt at free jazz/avant-garde thing. All the instruments are essentially playing in different time signatures while I read a poem about a sad old Russian widow in St. Petersburg reflecting on her wild youthful days and how she ended up where she is.
I wanted to do like a Beat Generation view of the future of living in today's age and where and how any of us could end up.
lyrics
Black Market Vampires
That old lady smoking black market cigarettes
Visions of Jesus in her cocktails
Smells of locker rooms in a summer dawn
Pushing towards the drugstore, twice daily
Certainly shows symptoms of suffocation
A widow in a window measuring bridge heights
Bears witness to a lifetime of executions
Flash of an old jalopy veering of the highway
Deep-fried nervous system still seering
Finds herself yelling at vending machines
Recalls glorious drunken Panama nights
A whole town full of broken cheering vessels
When she steps out of the control beam
The damaged cartilage and bruises sing
Stirs dark clouds of Moscow in a cold drink
Watches black-market ashes fall
Burning through her last clean shawl
Sad desperation glance into her chemical lake
Just a reflection of the walking dead
Keep garlic on your breath
credits
from Living At My Parent's House,
released March 11, 2016
Vocals - Everybody/Nobody
Electric Guitars - Everybody/Nobody
Bass - Everybody/Nobody
Drums - Everybody/Nobody
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