Arsonist's Son
from Fiction by Putnam Murdock
-
Digital Track
Immediate download of Arsonist's Son in your choice of MP3 320, FLAC, or just about any other format you could possibly desire.Buy Now $1 USD or more
-
Buy the Full Digital Album
-
Compact Disc
Includes immediate download of 15-track album in your choice of MP3 320, FLAC, or just about any other format you could possibly desire.ships within 3 days -
-
Share
lyrics
Smoke comes like smog in the valley.
Hope you don’t know anybody living in the hills.
Ice melts in midsummer cocktail.
Barns go up quick, matches dropped in the hay,
Ain’t no mistake, because the guilt fades
Chasing retribution
And it looks like the arsonist’s son paid you a visit again.
Well it happens in the dark, early morning.
Screams from horses, children cry to the volunteers.
The flames peek from behind the doorways.
Closets heave long hid skeletons.
Before he moves to the next he covers the last in gasoline.
Oh darling it looks like the arsonist’s son has paid you a visit again.
You could hear a pin drop in the city
And the people all been dead for days.
It was all over in thirty minutes.
It was the only way for the boys to win it.
And the foreign correspondent, he mumbled to me.
No one saw it coming.
If I were you, I would run for it.
Before the arsonist’s son pays you a visit again.
Hope you don’t know anybody living in the hills.
Ice melts in midsummer cocktail.
Barns go up quick, matches dropped in the hay,
Ain’t no mistake, because the guilt fades
Chasing retribution
And it looks like the arsonist’s son paid you a visit again.
Well it happens in the dark, early morning.
Screams from horses, children cry to the volunteers.
The flames peek from behind the doorways.
Closets heave long hid skeletons.
Before he moves to the next he covers the last in gasoline.
Oh darling it looks like the arsonist’s son has paid you a visit again.
You could hear a pin drop in the city
And the people all been dead for days.
It was all over in thirty minutes.
It was the only way for the boys to win it.
And the foreign correspondent, he mumbled to me.
No one saw it coming.
If I were you, I would run for it.
Before the arsonist’s son pays you a visit again.
credits
from
Fiction,
released 01 June 2008
Written by Putnam Murdock and Tom Carlisle.
Written by Putnam Murdock and Tom Carlisle.
tags
license
All rights reserved
feed
Feeds for about
Every Thursday night the Centre Streeters would gather in circle in a living room and evoke every damn lost, drunk, and ... more brokenhearted song known to man... in four part harmony of course. Each time brought me closer and closer to the point of knowing no other way of life. My bio is isn't finished, but I've been gifted with humility. Sitting in a circle, playing songs is where the real music exists. less
contact / help
For help with downloads, click here.
For all other inquiries, including help with merch, click here.
