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Drunken Squirrel Diet

by Turtle Zwadlo

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1.
Eileen 04:34
She said without looking that her name was Eileen Asked me if I wanted coffee I said just leave me be I've got some time, if you don't mind, I'd like to sit for awhile Then again without looking She nodded and she smiled Wonder what she'd have to say If someone would let her talk Wonder if she'd shy away Or tell you what she thought Does she know things are not Always as they seem Eileen Took to looking out the window, it was a dusty day I wondered what I'd have to say had my life gone a different way With a ticket for the bus, a hundred bucks, this diner I'd found A borrowed truck, a lot of luck, I might get out of this town Has she ever laughed so hard Her sides felt they're gonna split Has she ever been so mad To take a swing at you with her fist Does she see things right or wrong Or somewhere in between Eileen Started walking toward the counter I felt a little sick Pulled a pistol from my pocket Started pointing it From my right came a blinding light I suddenly needed a rest It was a shotgun blast I heard at last It left a hole In my chest Wonder what she'd have to say If someone would let her talk Wonder if she'd shy away Or tell you what she thought Now she stands hands on her mouth Holding back a scream Hope it does not take too long To get over What you just seen Eileen
2.
Hell, 48169 07:02
Walking down the street, minding my own feet I hear “Hey man, which way is heaven?” Well I do not know but if you care to go Hell is in Michigan, Hell is in Michigan You could go there first, do things in reverse, maybe find your destination It’s worth a try, starting at the end of the line, and Hell is in Michigan, Hell is in Michigan Neil brought three sandwiches, a couple of drinks, and a tattered old atlas that used to be his dad’s I said I would drive, the idea was mine, and like bats out of hell we were bound for Michigan Looking for Heaven Going to Hell Looking for Heaven On our way, we were on our way To Hell We hit the road and after an hour or so a hitchhiker appeared in the distance Pulled up along side, offered him a ride, what the hell his sign read Michigan He said I am George Reeves, I own a distillery and you look like whiskey is your poison Take me with you, here’s what I’ll do, it’s a hell of a deal, ten cents a gallon We drove through the night, it got awful quiet, Neil ate two of the sandwiches Reeves had a look in his eye, I crossed myself twice, scared as hell, headed for Michigan Looking for Heaven Going to Hell Looking for Heaven On our way, we were on our way To Hell Come dawn’s early light, Hell was in sight, a large crowd down round the mill pond A revenue man, papers in hand, like the devil searching for the contraband Reeves jumped right out casting his doubt with the confidence of a confidence man He said with a smile, easy as a child “There are spirits in hell, but this is Michigan!” Looking for Heaven Going to Hell Looking for Heaven On our way, we made our way To Hell Slinking away, tail between his legs, that tax man he left empty handed The crowd gave a shout, the whiskey came out, they throw a hell of a party in Michigan It was sunk two by two, the barrels of booze, in the water right where they were standing The hangover cleared, Reeves had disappeared, his story just dusty old legend After a stop in the souvenir shop and with the last of the sandwiches We set out again, in search of Heaven leaving Hell there back in Michigan Looking for Heaven Going to Hell Looking for Heaven On our way, we made it back From Hell We made it back We made it back from Hell Oh we made it back We made it back from Hell
3.
All of my life I tried to be true Turns out the lie Was trusting in you Your heart wouldn’t grow Your love turned to stone Now that you’ve flown We’re both all alone But I can’t move on Till you’re finally gone I’m still surrounded by Pieces of You You chose a new path You think it will last The easy way out Comes easy to you Hoping for change A life rearranged Look in the mirror It shows the truth I can’t move on Till you’re finally gone I’m still surrounded by Pieces of You I’m still surrounded by Pieces of You I watched you go When I needed you most This broken body Couldn’t hold on to you Now my time is up Come clean this all up Throw your pieces away I leave them to you So I can move on When I’m finally gone No longer surrounded by Pieces of You No longer surrounded by Pieces of You Pieces of You Pieces of You I’m still surrounded by Pieces of You
4.
Like a zombie, pumping those quarters in High on elevated oxygen I’m having an argument I can never win But your opinion Is my addiction A lotus for the virtual city of sin Like the spinning of a slot machine The constant scrolling of the endless feed Has confounded my bombarded psyche An obscenity This false reality But deal me in tonight I’m gettin lucky The stakes are high It’s a crap shoot every time Watching the world end With all my digital friends Hit refresh Pull the lever again In the Vegas airport in the men’s room Beside every urinal another chance to lose If you hit the jackpot you’ll have to choose To drop a few Or piss on your shoes The question is which hand will you use Back at home, my business done Long after both of my legs have gone numb Mindlessly twitching one of my thumbs Getting more dumb Part of the problem Betting on distraction against my freedom The stakes are high It’s a crap shoot every time Watching the world end With all my digital friends Hit refresh Pull the lever again The stakes are high It’s a crap shoot every time Watching the world end With all my digital friends Hit refresh Pull the lever again Pull the lever again Pull the lever again Pull the lever again
5.
Sitting on the front porch waiting for the bells If I ever hear one you know I’ll never tell Encouraged by the new moon the stars strut and shine I watch for movement by the headstone lights Hoping not to hear a sound Or see shadows on the ground I live next to the cemetery In case someone comes around It’s not that I’m afraid No, I’m not scared of death The terrifying thing Is I might have to come back I haven’t lived well enough for death to be the end No rest for the wicked Amen No shot at redemption, it’s not a second chance It is the eternal torment they told you of at mass But Hell is not some fiery place somewhere down below Hell is walking on this Earth without your mortal bones It’s not that I’m afraid No, I’m not scared of death The terrifying thing Is I might have to come back I haven’t lived well enough for death to be the end No rest for the wicked Amen All the deeds of my life marked down in the ledger All the X’s fall on the wrong side of the paper Hoping not to hear a sound Or see shadows on the ground I live next to the cemetery In case someone comes Around It’s not that I’m afraid No, I’m not scared of death The terrifying thing Is I might have to come back I haven’t lived well enough for death to be the end No rest for the wicked No rest for the wicked There’s no rest for the wicked Amen
6.
Two a.m. on Sunday in the city that never sleeps The cold of late November quiets city streets A light falls onto Seventh with the promise of a meal Dinner a show, one low price, what a steal Preaching at the counter, pacing up and down Chasing thoughts in circles his words go round and round Prohpesizing through the night never finding the answer A doughnut and a coffee cup, marks of the Brooklyn savior He says you can call me Jesus like the other fools But all my friends are dying What am I to do Swears to god he won’t go to jail, he’s been there before Look what happened last time, scars he still wore She says “you can take that kind of talk out into the cold” He hangs his head confessing, he’s not so bold Night shift mother Mary treats him like a child One not meaning any harm, he’s just a little wild Pulling not a single punch she lands her advice “If all you friends are dying, go to them and cry” Suddenly sitting up a fire back in his eyes He says “All my friends might do it I’m not gonna die” With a snap of my fingers and a wave my hand Just like that, magic happens All my friends are dying But that I refuse to do You’ll believe in miracles When I achieve the impossible But all my friends are dying So what am I to do? Two a.m. on Sunday, the city never sleeps Every night on Seventh Street they replay the same scene At saving all his dying friends he may be a failure But there’s always coffee and a seat for the Brooklyn savior Always coffee and a seat for the Brooklyn savior
7.
Darkness came at ten a.m. Candles lit so the Book could be read Father dropped to his knees and prayed The cattle returned to the barn The nightbird sang a mournful song No evidence now of the recent dawn What to do about the work to be done Finish the task or turn and run Abraham knew how to be found For surely it has come Surely it has come Surely it has come The end End of Days The preacher behind the church door Overrun with sinner's remorse Delivers a hurried sermon to the fold While the Devil serves the tavern drink To those who embrace debauchery The Damned are running naked in the street For surely it has come Surely it has come Surely it has come The end End of Days Is this punishment for the lingering war The blood-soaked ground can take no more We all thought God was on our side But now dirty black rain is pouring down The visible Heavens are all gone The deadest night since the Birth of Light Surely it has come Surely it has come Surely it has come The end End of Days From Asa down to Zebulon The lesson learned will not be lost If we teach the children; make them behave For surely it will come Surely it will come Surely it will come The end End of Days

about

Debut collection recorded in 2018.

credits

released December 18, 2018

Recorded at BC Gaslight Studio by Brian Combs and Sound of Music, Richmond VA by John Morand.
Mixed by Jonathan Corey

Stuart Gunter: Drums
Jonathon Corey: Keys
Tom Illmensee: Electric Guitar tracks 2,3,4, and 6
Richard Wood: Electric Guitar, BG Vox track 1
Nick Berkin: Accordion tracks 2 and 5
Les Williams: Electric Guitar, Lap Steel, BG Vox track 7
Rob Williams: Acoustic Guitar, BG Vox track 7
Emily Kresky: BG Vox tracks 2 and 4
Caroline Kirby-Burke: BG Vox tracks 2,4, and 5
Turtle Zwadlo: Vocals, Bass, Acoustic Guitar, Tenor Guitars

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Turtle Zwadlo Crozet, Virginia

Turtle Zwadlo is a singer-songwriter whose narrative style songs are infused with rock and folk elements, often focusing on social issues. The new release, Cold Comfort: Tales From Whitelandia continues Turtle's DIY experiment and is entirely self produced. ... more

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