Get all 13 MOUNTAINTOP JUNKSHOP releases available on Bandcamp and save 25%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Bandits, Misadventureland, Bullets & Love, Misadventureland, 5000 Visions, Yellow Roses Red Eyes, Three Hits to the Heart, White Christmas Blue, and 5 more.
1. |
Yellow Roses Red Eyes
05:22
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Out in the middle of the rolling sea
Withdrawing shadows from a cash machine
A hammer and sickle could set you free
Until we get a shot we're in quarantine
No lights to guide you back, all the stars are dead and black
No maps or directions, the sky is empty, God has gone
Yellow Roses, Red Eyes
I can hear the devil whispering into my ear at night
Yellow Roses, Red Eyes
I can hear the devil whispering into my ear at night
Back in the saddle of a wild, wild bull
You could drink forever and not get your fill
A gun and bullet, could set you free
A trigger if you pull it, or a lover's leap
No big dipper or plough, all the signs say turn back now
No breadcrumb trail back home, no glass to smash, and no Batphone
Yellow Roses, Red Eyes
I can hear the devil whispering into my ear at night
Yellow Roses, Red Eyes
I can hear the devil whispering into my ear at night
No lights to guide you back, all the stars are dead and black
No maps or directions, the sky is empty, God has gone
Yellow Roses, Red Eyes
Yellow Roses, Red Eyes
Yellow Roses, Red Eyes
Yellow Roses, Red Eyes
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2. |
Holy Hell
03:24
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There’s so many ghosts rattling around my brain
Animals and relatives, stuck between two planes
There’s so many souls with something in the way
Hanging round in houses, slamming doors and smashing plates
Charles Hawtrey in a house fire, saved his cigarettes
Four horsemen beat down black jack and lost the final bet
Holy holy holy Hell
We’re drowning in a wishing well
Holy holy holy smoke
We rolled the dice and now we’re broke
There’s so many hearts beating out of time
All the secrets have been sold, there’s no diamonds in the mine
There’s so many devils dancing in delight
At the angel on your shoulder, cocaine, sugar, SSRIs
So look out Frederick Fleet, come down Richard Manuel
On the Lake Park Little Dipper, I call shot gun at the final bell
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3. |
Bullets & Love
03:22
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I know a bar where the owner is an exorcist
He can save your soul while sailors arm wrestle and couples kiss
I know a bar where shots of mescal come with parasites
You can smoke a bowl while lookouts whistle warnings and wildcats fight
The curtains are closed and the sun don’t shine
Tied to the tracks of the cocaine county line
When you lay where the law won’t go
There’s vampires and volcanoes always about to blow
Bullets and love
Straight from Hell or sent from Heaven above
Bullets and love
Straight from Hell or sent from Heaven above
I know a bar where the owner walks a tightrope wire
He could put you out with a prod made for cattle or tongs full of fire
I know I bar that reminds me of the film The Wagons Roll at Night
It can take its toll, leave you in the gutter with a venomous snake bite
Blinds stay down and the dogs all bark
You wake up with a bruise shaped like a broken heart
When you buy where all the bad cheques bounce
There’s werewolves and wanted men always about to pounce
Bullets and love
Straight from Hell or sent from Heaven above
Bullets and love
Straight from Hell or sent from Heaven above
At the ghost train station save a seat at the bar
Pray to the paternoster in a house of cards
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4. |
Ambulance Moon
03:45
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5. |
Misadventureland
03:43
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I was swimming figure 8s in Central Park
Doing laps 12 hours a day until dark
They say somewhere the night is always young
But every time it gives way to the sun
Prozac and Jacuzzis dull my rage
But a cage in camouflage is still a cage
And your last words oh they echo in my ear
Darling how the hell did we both end up here
Misadventureland
It seemed like such a simple plan
Misadventureland
I watched you flailing in quicksand
From the arctic circle down to Bloomingdales
Dead polar bears they don't tell no tales
They say somewhere the day is always long
A traffic cone and therapy swan song
Bar biting and neck twisting through the day
Head bobbing and my body starts to sway
And the words I mouth my keeper never hears
Darling how the hell did we both end up here
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6. |
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7. |
Rain and Transit
03:45
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8. |
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9. |
Three Hits to the Heart
03:03
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Frank was a swamp rat, a real ragged ghost
A suicide note that got lost in the post
Blue light and black snakes, sharp hairpin bends
The streets here still wind they weren't built by sane men
The strange country of childhood in the maps of my mind
Hope on a hook at the end of the line
Three hits to the heart
Five nights straight sitting up in the dark
Three hits to the heart
The angels came down and said don't take the mark
Breece he was hollow, split at the seams
There's no space here for strays or unbranded dreams
Dragonflies darting through bloody skylines
Death is your taxi driver tonight
An old tired dog chewing rosary beads
Living on luck and watermelon seeds
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10. |
5000 Visions
04:26
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He had never believed in God, never known God. God did not exist, until the age of twelve, when his mother was destroyed by the bastard that is cancer and then he saw God.
It appeared in his mother’s face, one evening, dusk stealing the daylight, as she came gliding earthward from the darkening sky - God in a woman, in a ghost, in a vision. At first he was unsettled, frightened even, but she calmed him - her smile, her caress and he began to weep. “Don’t cry,” she told him. “You are going to be a seer of visions. You will create beauty out of the dust and make it new for all to see”
He returned to the farm and allowed the days to pass, awaiting the predicted visions surrounding himself with paints and chalks and paper, paper, paper. Throughout his teenage years, he spent the days and nights alone in his room, living quietly in lonely blood.
I have seen God, hot on the heels of hell hound dogs
She said ‘You’re going to be a man of vision’
5000 paintings – apparitions
It came one evening from seemingly nothing. Still awaiting inspiration, he placed his finger into the white paint on his easel and, looking deeply at the plain tip of his finger, he saw a face appear - his mother and again within her the essence of God. Red specks appeared - a miracle - and he saw the blood of Christ and he felt the pain of the suffering of the ages.
He began to paint at that precise moment and continued with a single-minded purpose. Barely eating, hardly sleeping, alone and frantic, he painted - figures, landscapes, buildings, animals - all of the beauty and misery of the world. Paintings stacked up, a great number amassing without an audience. The fury of his activity, the constant visions in his head continued and as his work strengthened his body and mind began to fail.
It was a winter morning, at the age of twenty one, when he called the curator of the nearby art gallery. She visited, opening the doors stiffened with lack of use, pushing through the darkness of the house and weaving a path through the clutter and madness of isolation. She found him there, in shadowy, dust speckled light, dead, surrounded by his works which she declared immediately as the work of a genius and in his hand a scribbled note which simply said,
“I have seen God. I have seen God. I have seen God and God has found me at last”
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MOUNTAINTOP JUNKSHOP Leicester, UK
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