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Performing As the Sodermen

by John Mac and the Moraggots

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    Immediate download of 11-track album in your choice of 320k mp3, FLAC, or just about any other format you could possibly desire.

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1.
Every time you stop and catch your breath, I miss a step myself. And if you were to shake your head and laugh, I’d be in on the joke. I think she knows just what I ought to say. What would turn her head, make her come on out to play. An unkind word from her Descends done on my like a stone-cold avalanche. Just as easily a smile lifts me from dark to light And I relax. I think she knows just what I ought to say. What would turn her head, make her come on out to play. I think she knows just what I ought to do. Every word a clue that reveals the truth some way. She thinks so much I think I feel her thoughts Lining up inside my head. It’s all right I feel quite fine no matter what She’s on my side. I think she knows just what I ought to say... Ten long years I wound up, so alone... Seldom did I find the peace, the sweet relief, I finally found with you. I been bound to her tighter than, A Siamese twin you know. I’m the ink that forms the words “I love you” That she writes so slow... I think she knows, just what I ought to say...
2.
Born to a Wells in 1949, back in Schallot. You claimed your ma cleaned their houses, Your pa watered up their farms. On a good day he said when he lay in his bed, In the stink of the mash from last night, “I never done you no good.” Thumbing your first ride, Myrtle Beach bound, Didn’t look back... Until we worked your way West , unloading freight from trucks, For cash. Until one day you washed up with the rest of the wrecks, line up on the west side of Turk Street, their hearts and their feet full of holes. You missed the draft. To the tax man, you’re gone with the wind. And the law there in Schallot isn’t looking too hard cuz they know, That you’re pushing a mop, swabbing floors for a drop, In the bar of the Irish. You kiss your ma’s picture and wish... John Robert Carling, Can you hear your ma call you home? Where you been all these years, Off the grid, out of touch and on your own? John Robert Carling, Can you hear your ma call you home? John Robert Carling, Come on quit your stalling. Come home. Forty years gone, memories grow kinda slippery I know. The last time you seen her your ma stood all alone on the porch. The charmer inside you with fraud in his heart, Said “Oh ma, I won’t be gone too long. I won’t leave you alone. I won’t leave you alone.” John Robert Carling, Can you hear your ma call you home? Where you been all these years, Off the grid, out of touch and on your own? John Robert Carling, Can you hear your ma call you home? John Robert Carling, Come on quit your stalling. Come home.
3.
My mama thought that she knew me; She knew nothing at all. Nothing at all cuz it all seemed so small, Not a word of this to the rest if you value your life. I do what their God says as I dig away. Away from the smoldering, golden rays, And into the haze that marks my epiphany, The final call of days. The last time I checked there were pots in the sink, The bills sat unpaid, but that’s just the way... A life can unfold. A punch between the eyes, You never grow old.... There’s a marker of stone on which your name’s been carved, Like the chrome script on the hood of your Grandfather’s car. Admit that I gave you a start, sometimes old people fart, It’s an art. I lose track of the times when people around me Said they wished they were dead. A feeling I shared myself more than once, But despite that I kept my head Only thinking thoughts that’s that were nice, I nearly lost my love of life And turned away instead. I lose track of the times when people around me Said they wished they were dead. A feeling I had myself more than once, But despite that I kept my head. Only thinking thoughts that were nice, I nearly lost my love of life, And turned away instead. I nearly lost my love of life, And turned away instead.
4.
I never should have known, So many things he said come true. Like I'm such a stubborn guy, I never heard a thing was true. In his silver suit he vowed, Bowed a thousand times, And on and on. Some days I've lettered, a pretty cardboard sign. I like to think I’d come out fine. I’ve been to school, I know a thing or to, I like to think I’d smell the lie. Around his legs a bandage worn, Wrapped a thousand times, And on and on. Above our heads lies violet sky, Where birds fly upside down and die, Each puff of cotton cloud that skates, It punctuates a crime. And on and on. You riffle pages, through a long-lost, well-loved book, Our whispering nothing until it took. A cigarette lit and pressed between her lips, Long, slow, fade to black-and-white - that look. The laden-glance that promises, so much more. The voice in church that’s raised above, above the roar. And on and on. Above our head, the violet sky, Where birds fly upside down and die, Each cotton puff of cloud that skates, It punctuates a crime. And on and on. And on and on
5.
This Melody 04:17
This melody, Is coming through to me. This melody - Eight notes that’s hummed to me, So it sweetly swings, yeah. It’s all about this place that’s overrun with trees. Down below people dying for the breeze. Wending road twists beneath the redwood sky, This friend of his lives there in a trailer set on blocks, He listens while he talks. This melody The robin outside on the hillside steep, He feels it sing to him, yeah. A song in parts that’s sung and only sung to him. Through the window ‘bove the galley sound leaks in. His heart’s hard-used he loved to tell you so, Leaning back with his leg propped up; The one he hurt years before. Hurt bad but that’s nothing, He’s got all the dreams you see. I loved to listen to him ramble on and on and on. This melody, Coming through to me. Beneath this canopy of leaves he’d rest, He feels the raindrops fall, yeah. The wind it snaps each drop against the trailer’s walls, Inside he feels quite safe and feeds the stove. While the rest of us fall upon our knees, He planned and planned the next cruel joke, But that was him you see. In every picture of him, he’s always flanked by friends, And in every memory I can recall, His quoting Grateful Dead. This melody, Coming through to me. This melody - eight notes that’s hummed to him, So he lives alone, yeah. It’s all about this place chock block with bees and birds. Down below the people donely know they heard. This melody, Coming through to me
6.
Afflictions beset us and test us anew, Heaven-bound, what’s that sound? A chorus of virgins. Beware the traitors you’ve loved all along, Soldiers of Christian nations who just soldier on. I listen to the Fox news and snooze, Wish it was Christmas. The General’s report harkens back to the days, Whether Minie balls or roadside bombs the killing’s all the same. Children whose fathers face East ‘fore they fight, Are children whose mothers fight because they’re right. There’s nothing I know can excuse this, I wish it was Christmas. Either you’re for Christmas, Or else you’re against us. Five thousand crosses on a hill near my home, Two strips of wood marking each one that’s gone. Who can remember? Well there’s some sure who can. Right the wrongs from days long gone. I understand, That hatred is the new word for love, So it’s best if it’s Christmas. Either your for Christmas, Or else you’re against us. There’s nothing I know can excuse this, So I wish it was Christmas. Either you’re for Christmas, Or else you’re against us...
7.
Four birds in a row perched on the wire. Eight dots black as coal on either side, Till one flies up, higher. Three wing to wing as the day is long, Each one conversate on and on, Till one flies up higher. With each on his own, Where will the love come from? With all gone but one, Where will the love come from? Two birds sing, one with a red-flecked wing seen for miles, Two birds ring as each had his friend tucked by his side, Until one flies up higher. One bird all alone, perched on the wire, One bird wears his song sung sans desire, Until he flies up higher. With each on his own, Where will the love come from? With all gone but one, Where will the love come from? Where will the love come from?
8.
He’ d live alone, If he could stand himself that much. His mind floats miles away while he Lays his head down, on someone’s unsprung couch. You see that silver lining, In the cloud that soars above. It ain’t rain, just a dreams been tarnished, Worn out and varnished, Without someone else’s pain. The dappled light, Trickles in between the shades. He knows he should quit this room instead he falls asleep again. He lies there, paralyzed With one side of this debate. A feeling he has, a choice to be made, An evil little thought that lies in wait. Nonsense. He pushes himself upright, Turns on the light. It’s some kind of conundrum, It’s a sighted man who only sees the night. A sense to orient, And point our feet on the way. The time crawls by in clicks. The old clock ticks and Whispers “Howdy Hey!” Sunrise each time takes you By surprise but still you wait Outside the outlines of the day take shape; Your mother tells her friend you’re just fine. Comes the time when the gloves must come off You fight your way to the front. It’s some kind of conundrum, It’s a weaving man who has one more than he should. One more than he should. One more than he should.
9.
Citizens of the town, Will you let them ride roughshod unanswered? Heed now the call over dieseling tractors you better, You better stand, Stand and be counted, While you can, Man up or shut up, Turn off your own noise and just listen. To the hawk that’s keening, the coyote’s bark, and Your eyes, fixed on the ground and In the town, nary a one, Who’d protest what’s been done. The ridge line so green in the winter, It’s now all but gone. Shorn off to make room for outrageous homes, Worth millions. They’re nearly done. Gone are the orchards. They’re nearly done, The creeks all culverted. Citizens of the town, Will you let them ride roughshod unanswered? Pull up the stakes, the flags fly, And drop down in the breeze. They’re nearly done. Gone are the orchards. They’re nearly done. The creeks all culverted. They’re nearly done.
10.
I Confess 02:57
When a man from the city like me, Throws it all cuz he’d rather be here. It’s not the peace nor the abundance of parking that prompts him, It’s woman like yourself, my dear. With the sun setting late over Roundtop you know, It’s long since been dark here in town. But my heart stays lit up like a firefly flying, Illuminates like it’s Fourth of July. On the evening we met, I admit I suspected, What you with your good sense expected. Yeah. You with your long dark hair slow-turning grey, Delicately frames a smile, So bright, such a sight, what I see last each night, Know I’ll always be there by your side. By your side, on my word, I confess that I never give much thought, To the past. No. On the evening we met, No, I’ll never forget what you did with one look, That’s all it took. Yeah. You with your long dark hair slow turning grey, Delicately frames a smile. So bright, such a sight, what I see last each night, Know I’ll always be there by your side. By your side on my word, I confess that I never give much thought, To the past. No. You with your long dark hair slow-turning grey...
11.
Every Day 02:21

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www.themoraggots.com - recorded in 2008 at Moraggot Studios in Moraga, CA. Re-mixed 2012.

credits

released June 10, 2008

With help from my friends SF Bay area bassist John Dennison on The Violet Sky, My Melody, and While You Still Can and drummer/percussionist Mike Spinrad on Nothing At All, The Violet Sky, My Melody, One For the Crow and While You Still Can.

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John Mac and the Moraggots San Francisco, California

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