The Walking Club

by boog

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1.
02:13
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2.
(free) 03:02
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3.
03:37
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4.
01:50
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5.
02:10
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6.
03:49
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7.
02:49
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8.
04:24
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credits

released 30 June 2010
All music and lyrics written and performed by boog, except piano on 'Valentine Party Pt. II,' played by Dave Spencer.

Recorded and mixed by boog at The Haberdashery, Pottstown, PA.
Mastered by John Baker at Maja Media, Philadelphia, PA.

Cover photo by Amber Zagorski.
Inside photo by Kait Holly.
Design and layout by Michele Kienle and Fred Will.

All songs published by Passionslut Songs (ASCAP)

tags

tags: alt-country alt-folk alternative country folk philly acoustic alt-folk concept rock roots Philadelphia

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Track Name: Setting The Palette
We were accosted

They came upon us suddenly
With chains, to bind
& whips, to drive
& knives, to slice
& toys to try

Somehow I survived,
But I could not save them
Track Name: Flowers In Alcohol
The first time you swallowed me
there was no doubt in my mind that it was love
My cracked & bloodied fingers were the perfect fit
for your colorfully knit kid gloves
But the second time you did it, my certainty waned
I was as scared as a black ant caught in a slobbering rain

& though we hadn’t yet parted,
that’s when it started
for fear, I turned blackhearted and set our love about to
circling the drain

The first time you touched my face
there was no doubt in my mind, our nerves were kindred
You were the hottest bloom at the end of June,
& I was a fool not to pick you ‘til winter
Thrown & put together, just like pure science-fiction—
It was all i could do to be your two-penny prince

& though we hadn’t yet started,
fate had you outsmarted
From then on, our course was charted
We were forever doomed to
circle the drain

& since the last time you called to me,
it isn’t unusual for me to tope
when the midsummer moon fills up my room
with the same china hue as your skin. I hope you
drowned my flowers in alcohol & choked off the bottle,
so they can live to see you happy in the arms of another

& when their color’s departed,
know that your plan isn’t thwarted
Those blossoms have only started
to know how it feels to
circle the drain
Track Name: Valentine Party Pt. I
My lover has a billion houses
and a wardrobe of ten billion blouses
She says, ‘You can never not have something to wear.’
But all it takes is one little tear
in her heavy coat for me to break through it
The heart is the hardest soft target to hit

The rules laid down by a victim are cruel,
but I humored her, in hopes that when she finished school
she’d be wise to the world, her ignorance finally fed
The game kept me warm in another’s bed,
but it wasn’t long before I outgrew it,
because the heart is the hardest soft target to hit

Bacon grease and Camel smoke:
the two scents I’ve come to love the most,
walking down this well-worn corridor
I reach out to touch the door,
but my hand seems to go right through it
The heart is the hardest soft target to hit

At a homecoming rife with pomp and flags
I was led into danger by her ruby rags,
bagged, gagged, and stolen away from my world
But her net wasn’t too hard to unfurl
I’d say that even a child could quickly undo it
The heart is the hardest soft target to hit.

For the purpose of making my actions more clear:
it was not money or distance or faith, it was fear
Fear was the reason I orphaned her, turned tail, and ran
But my face always did look so hollow and damned,
no matter how many times she drew it
The heart is the hardest soft target to hit
Track Name: Burs
Poured coffee after the funeral
Brewed it twice just to keep it around
Ma looked beautiful in black
She’d a dancer’s neck and back
Though she daresn’t show it now

And Pa took off work more for us than for him
But the plant didn’t take well to that
They said, ‘Times being what they are,
we’re going to have to start to cut the chaff
from the wheat.’

& sleeping dogs lie still in the ruins
Take care that you don’t disturb them
But don’t be surprised to see one
Tarry by your feet, once he’s
Picked up on your scent
Track Name: Valentine Party Pt. II
Tell me, how does she bend with legs so straight?
How does she get around so with such a stiffened gait?
These are the things that only an artist would know
Another such is how she could tie a knot and know
just how snugly my neck would fit through it
And how the heart is the hardest soft target to hit

Thick curling smoke or hidden jokes,
I was still peddling my soul from beneath my cloak,
giving her everything that I am in a song
But my best effort wasn’t much for long,
because her binges were quick to outdo it
But the heart is the hardest soft target to hit

It was always ‘balance’ and ‘freedom’ with her,
although she danced close to chaos with every word
On her pale winter skin, the ink on her shoulder shone blue
I said, ‘Yeh, I knew you too when that tattoo was new,
and I shook the shaky that drew it.’
But then the heart is the hardest soft target to hit

& she looked so distressed the very next day,
under the sun, with friends in the park, at play,
her arms so involved–those drunken, insatiable limbs
And that short-tongued, toothy grin–
well, that was all there really ever was to it
The heart is the hardest soft target to hit.
Track Name: Pantomime Of An Enchanted Girl
She’s too young to be
writing heavy letters with such conviction
That’s not to say her diction doesn’t
give her a couple more years
than she appears to have lived through
But, even so,
it was a kiss out of sight,
complex and revealing, but
the kind of promise that’s not meant for keeping

& yes, I will keep in touch
& yes, I will be sincere
But some words will never leave my lips,
unless they’re dancing onto hers

& when this letter lights on Butler,
I may have done a wicked, wicked thing
But by then she’ll have done me one better,
or worse

‘I feel as though I am failing
at whatever it is I should be doing for you,
be that lying or pretending to forget
what I said to myself, once you’d left
on the road that would take you back home in the west:
“an innocent will suffer
the guilt of another.
One way, or the other, it doesn’t bode well for either.”

& if this isn’t enough
for you,
know that I am doing all I can
for now.
I could give you the world with my fingertips,
but that’s not the sort of man I am.’

& when this letter lights on Butler,
I will have done a wicked, wicked thing,
but I will know just exactly where I stand

& when this letter lights on Butler,
I will have done a wicked, wicked thing,
but I will feel spotless as a little lamb

But didn’t you say
that in exactly one year
we would meet here
in the late ides of May?

Yes, I did say that
And we will meet here,
come the late ides of May
Track Name: Noah's Ark Peep-Show
We went west to no salvation
We were thinking that we were free
We’re just now getting out of the garden,
only to be buried by the sea

Between the notion and the nation,
there’s that little thing called faith
Birds fall dead on holy places,
sacred spaces long laid waste

We went south just to get some air,
but it was a tree-lined way of pain,
Bienvenue au le monde, mon frere
Ma, you can’t have an Abel
once you’ve had a Cain

Between the victor and the victim,
there is a constant tacit game:
he who sleeps will be he who bears
scars without a name

We went east just to say goodbye
to those who’d said the west would be the end
It seemed a clear drop at the horizon,
but the sun must rise again, friends

Between the crowning and the coronation
tiger-lilies line the way
to the battered door of the station,
where they bear your sons away

We went north to twigs and pebbles
and a dusty country road
(It was skulls and bones and ashes
trapped beneath the snow)

Between the shouts of the louts and lushes,
there’s the thrum of locust wings
Beneath the singing of the thrushes,
the spider loves the fly on in
Track Name: Valentine Party Pt. III
There are certain things I can take or leave,
refute until I die or break down and believe
I’m an animal: one part logic, two parts hunger and rage
She sings like a canary in a gilded cage,
but something tells me not to pursue it
The heart is the hardest soft target to hit

She calls it love, for all, the same,
but without the blood and a certain name,
it’s just chants and mantras and skeletal liturgies
She calls to me on her bended knees and
says, ‘Come on now, there’s nothing to it.’
Oh, but the heart is the hardest soft target to hit

There’s stardom there in her chiseled face,
but to kiss my maw would make it all a waste
It’s this place that did this, and nothing within my control
I said, ‘Be careful not to full into that hole,
because I hit bottom before I knew it.’
But the heart is the hardest soft target to hit

All of the sure, foreign faces I’ve missed
The lids, the lips, digits I could’ve kissed,
but wouldn’t. She led me so far from my very own grace
I’ve been too long away from this place,
and this is certainly not how I knew it
The heart is the hardest soft target to hit

& it’s no secret, the way I feel
But the real secret is one that I don’t want to reveal
I’m getting carried away here. Can someone throw me a rope?
My feet have no purchase on this slippery slope,
and it’s just a matter of time before I do it