MURDER BALLADS OF 1816: THE YEAR WITHOUT A SUMMER.
All starters taken from American Murder Song’s 2018 album, “Murder Ballads of 1816″. TW FOR VIOLENCE / DEATH / GORE / BLOOD.
I seal the fault upon the skin.
I carry on our brothers’ sin.
Steel your feet into the ash.
Who are we, brothers, here mourning?
Where is our ___? Run, run away!
Where is ___? Come out and play.
Where is ___? Come out and pray.
Dark is the road where the devils play.
Sweet little children, screaming crimson.
Red feet, red paws, to the door!
___, I am worn by the day.
___, please don’t stand in the way.
Speak to me, o murder child.
You bite the hand that feeds you and crow.
___, I must go to my bed.
Remove your windy barn-door hands.
This is not the shade of his red, by my word.
Your firstborn’s cold as a slab on your cross.
After the spring you will find him.
There’s no grave to fill.
___ close your eyes, there are stories to tell.
I hang the moon that looks to the west.
Water the branches that sprang from your wrist.
Nobody spoke as he emptied his gun.
He and his blood were forgot.
I’ll leave ___ right here on your bed.
What have they done to my sweet ___?
No one can love ___ half as much as me.
The thicker the heart, the stronger the pill.
___ snatched up the knife, and ‘round the table we chased.
Silver songs swung from his belt, dangling, tangling.
He waded through the tusks and pelts.
Winter bled into the spring.
___ caught the bruises in a sling.
___ found them in the wire fence.
___ dragged them through blood and silence.
Sit beside my drink and me, my pretty darling.
Gossip and needles, where the chapel ladies meet.
Where’s ___? What’s delayed them?
What goes in ___’s drum? One part kisses, three part rum!
___’s a Northern girl with a Southern tongue.
Every man’s pissing fire and howling for life.
Halfway to ___, and fit to be tied.
Drink up, ___, and wet your thirsty boots in ___’s chest.
Soaking in blood, pale as a sheet, it’s good to be alive!
Mine eyes are seeing double, and my powder horn is drunk.
My left leg isn’t working.
There’s killing in me yet.
Beg for mercy where there is none. I have none. I want none.
The roads have been barren of souls for weeks.
I don’t understand why I’m being punished.
No, God don’t live here no more.
___ has become a festering graveyard.
It was better when the king ruled us.
___ came to the house again.
I should make ___ hope. That would suit them! Hope is for the weak.
Make quick work, and eat again.
___’s blood would be my own treaty.
Don’t we all have our pacts to make? Soak them in blood and honour them.
I will not be punished by men.
What beautiful promise this is, ___.
Take my hands, then, for I will not wash ___’s blood from them.
I will let the animals gnaw at ___’s bones.
May you both be blessed in blood.
Emptied the streets, emptied their beds, emptied the pews, and left ___ for dead.
I shot a gun, I prayed a moment, but I didn’t grieve ___.
Who stole the sun from the sky, pale and unforgiven?
Was ___ my sibling to keep?
Keep our sins beneath the shed.
There’s breathing at our gate.
There’s a stubborn stain in the hall.
The dogs claw through the chains and the wall.
This is no place to rest. It’s far too cold on the ground.
Let’s get you up from the rug. There’s no virtue here on the floor.
___ is up from the ember and ash.
‘Twas a body on the chapel steps.
A body on the steps, and lies all about.
‘Twas ___ burning someone’s clothes.
‘Twas ___, with blood on their dogs and mud in their hair.
By the lamb are we saved.
We spit down the hole with no name.
There the devil was cast for ___.
O ye sons of men, now a city shines!
___, with a brand new Bible and a big big gun.
Damn their treaties, damn their kings, I’ve got a gun named Destiny.
There ain’t no prophets left.
Blood in my footprints, gun in my hand.
I am always walking as somebody else.
God is in the country, devil’s at your door.
Risen from the blood, land don’t forgive.
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