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Eclectic before eclectic was cooool... i fancy Bowie, Eno, Rundgren, Hendrix, Prince, TDN, Zappa, Sinatra, and more-but speaks now to the would-be apocalyptic t
I have been writing songs since age 7 (first song, walking home from school was "It's God's Fault".) Never stopped writing and as soon as possible recording on anything I could get my hands on. Dad's Sony reel-to-reel, cassette recorders, ping-ponging to achieve semblance of multitracking. Then proper 4-track machines, then 8, then 16, then digital (early 80s) then in million dollar studios where I managed too often to fill 100 tracks ON TAPE (on SSL consoles, Neve) and everything in between. Have written thousands of songs, recorded probably about 400 of them. Have performed about 600 live shows. Made a few music videos. Always still writing, performing, and recording. [fun fact, my youngest son is one of the top songwriters in the music biz, world. Now if I could just catch a break, lol, that would be great! Oh well. So it goes.]
Song Info
Genre
Rock • Goth Rock
Charts
Peak #127
Peak in subgenre #3
Author
words by T.Ray Larsen/music by Jerod Stutsman
Rights
T.Ray Larsen/Jerod Stutsman
Uploaded
June 13, 2009
Track Files
MP3
MP3 2.8 MB • 128 kbps • 3:00
Lyrics
Now the mist has swept the morning Colors fade and the light is growing dim In the storm Peace--sons and daughters dawning, though it seems darkness has won the day Breaking down you shatter cold A crystal box once holding old dreams And they scatter from your mire Pallid wastrels whisper nothing to assuage The shrieking from the burning funeral pyre Playing animal, playing cards Playing animal, now, you're playing gods You stand for nothing, you fall for all You're playing animal, you kissed the fall Black and burning tapers Curtains drawn for caper Mouldered groans hum lullabies To your dying end it leads To an arcane book that no one reads You sold it to the wrong god Playing animal, laying cards Playing animal, now you're playing gods You breathe for nothing, your heart's in shards All claws and gnashing, tell me, Who killed the guards Drifting forms still linger Ancient quills still write by themselves In the dark One forgotten mirror, gilt with gold A frozen pain Your death's Reflection
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