Get all 6 Rasp Thorne releases available on Bandcamp and save 25%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of LaZY SHaRKs, Thorne Barbs - A Selection of Spoken Word, BROTHER CHARON, SPAR HORNET, The Lecher's Waltz, and Ryder Pales.
1. |
The Junk of Love
05:14
|
|||
|
The Junk of Love
Sick buzzard stumblin down the street as if his heart was cut out,
Searchin the cracks for carrion an’ other marks of rout,
See the cracked man laugh on the subway train
Pupils suspended between his shouts,
Ya ever wonder how they wound up that way,
How far they fell between the planks?
How the shinin prince who used to woo traded his armor in for rags?
Well, let me tell ya lil’ boy of a potion I know that’s been smuggled amongst the ages,
The lil’ thing the poets try to describe but end up wastin countless pages,
It’s a tiny tincture lodged in yer heart which if you aint careful will grow,
So prick up your ears lest yer taste arise to an addictive horrorshow…
Now, Nancy was a rancher’s wife with half her life behind her,
An’ she fell for a man in a three piece suit when he offered her his lighter,
An’ when they left that bar an’ left that town she felt her grace had finally come-
But she wound up like a mule in a motel room,
Kickin an’ a buckin in a bucket of her drool,
Clawin off the tiles in the filthy bathroom
She was strung
out
on
the junk of love.
Billy Boy was an alleycat with an ace of spades inked in his forearm,
The ace of clubs adorned his right fist an’ his shaft adorned the diamond mark,
An’ he poled the strippers an’ hustled the cards, rakin in the chips and palmin the hearts,
But he wound up a wino dealin stud on the outskirts of Reno with a trucker gut,
With a wrinkle dead dick an’ a fresh scrubbed gun,
Both of them choked within his clutch,
Wonderin if he shouldda jus’ held onto one,
His arteries cravin the junk of love.
Ya best take it easy on that plunger son…
Ya best take it easy on that plunger son…
Ya best take it easy on that plunger son,
How much of her juice ya shove in yer blood,
How deep ya delve into those pinhole eyes,
What dreams you awake between those thighs-
For Venus has slain all the alibi’s
an’ built a pyre out of their tongues!
With each lash they lick the fire up!
Fannin the furnace of the hi-noon Sun
where yer lover’s left you with the dust of lust,
Seekin out the dealers who don’t push yer stuff,
Scrapin back to what you once thought was
through a rust buffed portrait best kept untouched
You’ll be the wide eyed buzzard caked with mud
carrion crazy
for the junk of love.
Ya start out wise but end up dumb, sucker…
You’ll start out wise but end up dumb, sucker…
You’ll start out wise but end up dumb
Thirst cracked crazy for a drop of the stuff,
Obscene squealins, tangle blood tufts,
Deranged an’ prayin for a prick of the junk-
Pick up the blade boy palm the gun!
Pick up that blade boy palm that gun!
Yer slumped hump proves you’ve had enough
Take a long draw of the Devil an’ get the job done
‘cause there aint no rehab an’ there aint no club,
once yer strung out on the junk of love-
once yer strung out on the junk of love-
once yer strung out on the junk of love-
Plunge it in baby I aint had enough…
Shove right ‘mongst all the other stuff,
There was room for two ‘til you came along,
with yer battle wrought claws and pushup bra,
With yer stilettos tappin’ out Murphy’s law,
Ya got me humpin’ a pillow ‘til the cockcrow calls,
Shakin at the gates of a slaughterhouse dawn
Ya got me strung out baby
Ya got me strung out hazy
Ya got me strung out on the couch coughin out a song
Dope sick strung out on
the junk of love.
|
||||
2. |
Stetson Hat
05:06
|
|||
|
STETSON HAT
I heard the creakin of a clothesline wheel, old woman reelin in her pantyhose,
A bleach blonde was singing Bessie Smith, she wants some sugar in her bowl,
An’ I was drinkin on a tenement scape jus’ watchin the nite turn cold,
Then the heat swarmed in an' I heard your engine an’ to your polished boots I awoke.
Say Mr. won’t ya give me a lift a lil' further down the road,
I got jumped buy a junkie a few days back hitchin outta San Antone.
Say, hey Mr. where’d ya get that hat, I aint mockin ya I gotta know,
Half my heads done peeled off an' the sun won’t cease it’s glow,
When ya drop me off in the next town there aint nobody I’m gonna know,
But there’s jus' one thing that makes me smirk an’ kick back,
Yeah, there’s one thing that’s for sure.
I’m gonna buy me a Stetson hat, gonna buy me a Stetson hat!
Don’t ya think I’d look sharp in that, struttin ‘round in a Stetson hat?
I said, a hey Mr. thanks for lettin me ride in your chrome-tipped Cadillac,
I used to drive one way back, pulled me a couple girls in that.
Hey Mr. do you mind if roll up a pinch of your tobacco?
I’ll trade you one pinch for a priceless grin an’ another one for a joke:
So, a baby seal walked into a club, ya got a lite ‘cause my own got stoled,
An’ I aint got the funds to buy another one, I gotta save ev’ry dime for my goal.
Gonna buy me a Stetson hat, gonna buy me a Stetson hat!
Gonna get me one that’s crow black, gonna look mighty fine in that!
Used to be a lottta people I loved, where they gone to I don’t know,
Some of them are probably sittin fat, few rottin in the grave I ‘spose,
When I wore young clothes I spun the whole damn globe on the string of a yo-yo,
‘Til I took some peyote with some Indians in the middle of Mexico.
Never been quite the same since, I crave Chryslers and iguana bones,
But they’re mere seconds on my list there’s only one thing gonna make me whole,
It’s a lil’ item you might know . . .
Gotta buy me a Stetson hat, gotta buy me a Stetson hat!
Gonna pull a couple girls with that struttin ‘round in my Stetson hat!
Gotta get me a Stetson hat, get me one that’s crow black!
Gonna go to Hollywood an’ make a million dollars cash
strollin ‘round in my Steston hat.
Gonna buy me a Stetson hat, gotta get me a Stetson hat!
Aint no junkies gonna give me no crap struttin 'round in my Stetson hat,
I say Mr., what ya think of that?
|
||||
3. |
Operator Taunt No. 3
02:19
|
|||
|
OPERATOR TAUNT NO. 3
They say Mr. Crocodile has sharp teeth,
That he’ll belly role you down to the murky deep,
That his blood is black as barbwire that his eyes never blink,
That he lives off of frozen souls.
Have you ever seen an elevator crash down it’s shaft?
O’ it’s a kick it’s a real tra la la!
That the sound heard in passing is a momentary scream,
A quick chorus shriek to the mortuary,
Tiny squeaks cradled by sheer velocity all mixed with steels gnash!
Crash! Crash!
So tell me Mrs. Operator . . .
So tell me Mrs. Operator, have you ever placed a call,
‘tween my Delilah and that Crooked Eyed Man?
And if you have you better just tell me what they said,
You better tell me, tell me,
If you want to keep your head from rolling off
of your torso better tell me pretty please!
Tell me - tell me!
I’ll even pay a decent fee!
To know just what ensued ‘twixt the tethered tongues of those two,
If their speech was brittle briars or with honey streams imbued,
Did they speak of my removal?
Horde the final clue?
Did they utter of the dwarf albino?
Or whisper of the Jew?
They say Mr. Crocodile has sharp teeth,
That he’ll belly role you down to the murky deep,
That his blood is black as barbwire that his eyes never blink,
That he lives off of frozen souls!
|
||||
4. |
Montana Boy
07:14
|
|||
|
Montana Boy
I’m jus’ a good ol’ Montana boy,
Jus’ a good ol’ Montana boy,
Jus’ a good ol’ Montana boy strung out in New York City.
I jus’ stay up all nite long, bribin that beast of song,
Try to coddle it through my throngs but it don’t believe me.
Naw, it don’t believe me.
I feed it liquor with a yawn an’ cocaine with a cut-off straw,
Lacerate a few new scars but I don’t feel it.
I’m jus bleedin all nite long.
Used to straddle an ornery horse,
Dig my heels in his side to make him stay on course,
With a shotgun strapped on my pack ‘cross the streams an the mountains,
Scorched towns an’ red fountains,
Cross feral trails an’ railroad tracks
plastic suburbs an’ avenues ‘til a tangled route led me down to the river,
To a rusted bridge which led into Brooklyntown,
Where all things were stripped of me,
Where I traded my trusty steed for this viscous monkey on my back
An’ my ten gallon Stetson Hat for a little white rat that gnaws an’ gnaws an’ gnaws
an’ gnaws an’ gnaws.
So I found me a little cave,
On the corner of Flushing an’ Broadway,
An’ no one complains about the grave in the cave which I’m diggin.
There’s a pick ax pickin’ sugar all nite long.
I’m jus’ a good ol’ Montana boy,
Casin out the big score
Flippin quarters to the whores holdin open the door
at the cash checkin joint.
Pulse off the charts an’ my hearts in pawn,
Bribin that bitch that prods the song along,
Keep on sayin I’ll save an’ pay the loan off but I don’t believe it.
They can just keep it.
I’m jus’ a good ol’ Montana boy,
Jus’ a good ol’ Montana boy,
Jus’ a good ol’ Montana boy strung out in New York City.
I used to be me.
I used to see me.
But looks are deceivin now aren’t they?
An’ I don’t believe it.
|
||||
5. |
||||
|
HANGIN ROUND THE SCAFFOLD
Come to the scaffold,
I’ll be pinstriped an’ blue,
Waiting for the crackle
of when the floor drops through.
They nailed the motive,
But they hoodwinked the proof,
It was your lips dear
that tipped the scales askew.
An’ ya might write the final chapter,
Pen yourself the protagonist,
But I’m the climax they’re all after,
Will make ya seem like a mist.
I’ll be right there winking at you babe,
Ya can’t change what I done did,
Ya mightta got what you were after
but ya know you shouldda stayed away from my kin!
You’re not half a bad actor,
Courtroom coughs blowing dry crocodile tears,
I saw that judge peer down your blouse babe,
I saw ya whisper in that juror’s ear.
Couldda worked on your accent,
But ya memorized like a sleuth,
An’ when that anvil marked the action
your soliloquy came shining through.
Ya might fool them with your anger,
Mascara marred photoshoot,
A lash of lies might travel faster
than my muted interviews.
But I got a whole congregation of phantoms, sugar,
An’ they got the goods on you,
They’ll haunt the treble in each peel of laughter,
They’ll be the taunts the pills can’t elude, my love,
They’ll be the taunts the pills can’t elude.
Come to the scaffold, sugar,
I’ll be pinstriped an’ blue,
Come to the scaffold, darlin,
I’ll be right there hanging ‘round for you,
Give me a needle I’ll give you a screw,
Ya shoulda known what I’d done do.
|
||||
6. |
Wicked Weather
05:33
|
|||
|
WICKED WEATHER
Remember that story read ‘neath wicked weather,
Where the hero was slighted and maiden tethered,
And the legions of evil had banded together
to sink the briars back into the petals?
And how a breeze was leased from the western wind,
To whisp the lovers to life again.
And they rose refreshed bathed in righteous anger,
And slaughtered themselves far away from danger.
With dual tools of fresh vengeance
Braved the chaos of the streets ‘til they found themselves back in their lovers nest.
You best take good care ‘neath wicked weather,
Lest your mascara melt to black umbrellas.
Pull that blanket up tight, restraining your shoulders,
Why contemplate the fate that your blood runs colder than mine?
Now slovenly breathe beneath the sheet,
Bellow a final inferno for me.
You can tie me up, use and abuse me,
As long as you clean up your mess
on your knees leashed like a beast.
A beast, my little travesty.
Bit into the pit of a ripped blackcherry,
Filthy floors and a broken bed at the Chelsea.
We have the alchemy of a dirty movie,
I’ll buy the film if you’ll just do your duty in that corset.
I hope you’re warm in Buenos Aires,
My fingertips shiver stumble all over the ivories,
If you should fall ‘neath wicked weather,
Take comfort in the fate that you’ll be tethered again.
|
||||
7. |
||||
|
My Ballantine Valentine Baby
She called me out on Valentines
but I don't wanna go,
I gotta quarter gallon of Ballantines
an' a viles pile of blow.
“Why must ya pout on Valentines?
Why don't we go out and dance?”
‘Cause I got skins boilin in a bitches brew
an' I'm sharpenin my ax.
I'm gonna hack the heart of Valentine,
Slash it to rest!
For the heartbeats poundin my pulse to a pulp
an' the vein throb strangles my head.
Sometimes I swear I’s better off dead.
“Then stay at home with your stinkin' feet
I don't want no part of it.
I'm goin out to blaze down the street
aint gonna play no more hide an' seek.
I'm gonna seek what I can see.”
But baby, don't leave me alone on Valentines,
My heart would jus' tear in two,
I got some tea boilin by my Ballantines
an’ I need somone to stir the brew,
Come over baby an' stir my brew.
“Ya got some balls to say such a thing
when I conjure you beneath the sky,
While you're blinkin an’ blowin your nose
I'll be locked in an emerald plight!
I'll find a new boy to lick my knives!”
Alright baby where ya wanna go to exploit the follies of rites?
I'll grab my flask an’ ax an’ empty crucifix
an' follow your smolderins throughout the nite,
I'm gonna find ya an’ make ya burn brite.
Babe I'm gonna make ya burn brite
On this Ballantine Valentine nite,
Come over momma (daddy) an’ spit on my knives...
|
||||
8. |
O'Leary's Dirge
04:43
|
|||
|
O'LEARY'S DIRGE
The stranger arrived on a midnite express
with an umbrella used as a cane,
He limped towards shelter from storm risen weather
struggling with his suitcase.
I heed no law to self-remorse,
Each fatal mistake is fate,
What else could I do but what I have done
when there was no other way?
And he came and took away the only thing left shining,
And he left in her place a clashing legion of scrapes,
There was blood on the blade etched into the paper I was signing,
For the death of Darlin’ May could never go left unpaid.
Take heed of the ravens, beware not to scare
the dove away from your view,
Departed upwards behind the stars
where hope is rekindled anew.
Stray from the shadows, don’t attempt to mend
the seedy with the sublime,
For there’s too many strangers you pretend are friends
who seek and reap only to hide.
Mother Mercy come rescue me,
There’s snares in the den where I tread,
A banquet of shivers where I am the king
amongst ghosts of past haunting.
To think you must know how the wind blows so cold,
Carrying crystals away from the sea,
Even with sewed up holes it’s gonna cut through your coat
and bring frost to deep freeze the weeds.
I say go to your lover who’s waiting for you,
Don’t give him a chance to hate,
For I once wed a girl who looked just like you
who went by the name Darlin’ May.
Who went by the name Darlin’ May.
|
||||
9. |
Guarded by Rakes
03:53
|
|||
|
GUARDED BY RAKES
I'll pick for my lover a pile of fallen down wheat
an’ lay it asunder someday ‘neath her feet.
For my ma must be buried an’ I must ramble home
But without you beside me this home feels like the road.
I once was a scoundrel, many might still attest,
Feigned a wicked battle to hips of many a temptress,
But I swear to you my darlin I still sleep alone,
But without you beside me my bones grow so damn cold.
Broke open the crate which stored yesterdays pain,
Lodged in the garage and guarded by rakes,
Cobwebs laced 'tween raven-scratches hangin’ old ghosts,
Slammed the trunk shut, locked it an’ finally rediscovered hope.
The essence I seek aint beneath your clothes,
Nor the painted eyelids nor the seeds which you sew,
It lies in whipple wind so the truth can be known that
without you beside me my soul’s jus’ a dirty joke.
|
||||
10. |
L.A. Rooftop Lament
04:22
|
|||
|
L.A. Rooftop Lament
Give me a bed an’ a pillow,
Blow away all the cocaine,
Throw tapestries over the windows,
For I've got to lie down for the day.
My stomach’s become a hot throttle,
I'm a mess but can't really complain,
Our banter echoes around bottles,
Each time I go back to L.A.
It's a history stripped of all reason,
Our scars are engraven mistakes,
Wounds of a treasonous season
are clogged in the kitchen drain.
I cringe when I think of that Winter,
When rings scraped the threads of my gloves,
The harmony of a trigger,
The rage of an opus unsung.
Heartstrings of persecution,
Eyes mollified from hate,
Mutual contributions
to this twisted pun of fate.
So jus’ give me a bed an’ a pillow,
Hide away cocaine,
Throw tapestries over the windows,
For I've got to lie down for the day.
For your absence obscures my shame.
|
||||
11. |
Outro
00:25
|
|||
Rasp Thorne Berlin, Germany
Rasp Thorne is a writer, musician and performer based in Berlin.
Current musical
projects: DRUCKS, CHAGRIN, Silk Rut (Berlin)
Previous bands include: Rasp Thorne & the Briars, LaZY SHaRKS (London) Ryder Pales, and SPAR HORNET (NYC)
Along with solo songs he has also recorded poetry extensively.
'Etched in the Ether', a collection of lyrics, is available now through CHAGRIN PRESS
... more
If you like Ryder Pales, you may also like:
Have Some Shame
by don't get lemon
Gutsy New Romantic synthpop from Austin, Texas with hooks and heartache galore.
go to album
featured on Bandcamp Radio Apr 23, 2024
go to album
AMARGO
by Nina Maia feat. Chica Barreto
featured on Bandcamp Radio Apr 23, 2024
go to album
Dreamy indie rock a la Duster/Sparklehorse with interesting with dynamic shifts and subtle hooks to keep things moving along.
go to album
Miranda Winters of Melkbelly assembled an all-female band for this solo LP of alt-rock rippers chronicling youth decay and adult complexity.
go to album
Four Singles
by Operator Music Band
Four speaker-melting singles from New York's premiere "live techno" outfit, descended from vintage synthwave, deep house, and dance punk.
go to album
Off-kilter Portland indie rockers make an unexpected return with a tight three-track EP, their first new release in 12 years.
go to album
