One Hand At A Time

by P. C. Allen

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1.
Dig Down 04:10
This letter is addressed to Mr. Pete Townsend Hey brother I write you to say thanks for nothing, Your generation used up all the feelings And if we rock, it looks like we're ripping you off. Hey Mr. Jimmy as I write upon this page, My hand's they shake with a delicate rage. My amplifier has no aim For all that it plays sounds derivative and mundane So dig on down, dig down - the lost and found The Beatles devoured all there was to be found Dig down, dig down - the lost and found Nothing green can gather on a rolling stone Dig down, dig on down. To whom it may concern for all Hendrix had spurned The rockets red glare, the bombs bursting in air My fender is just a painted board, and if I light it on fire, I become such a fucking bore. Black Francis, Black Francis you were the last motherfucker out Grabbing all the good stuff and leaving no doubt That if rock and roll dies, it's not my fault I do the best with the leftovers that I got So dig on down, dig down - the lost and found The Beatles devoured all there was to be found Dig down, dig down - the lost and found Nothing green can gather on a rolling stone Dig down, dig on down. All of the juice had been sucked out Before Mel Bay taught us children to play So as we climb upon the rotting corpse Stick it in once again to see if the blood will course Chuck Berry, Chuck Berry you wrote the only original song Some white boys stole it, we all still sing along Chuck Berry sing to us one more time Before Clear Channel freezes everybody's mind So dig on down, dig down - the lost and found The Beatles devoured all there was to be found Dig down, dig down - the lost and found Nothing green can gather on a rolling stone Dig down, dig on down.
2.
a long drive into summer racing down the Sun. trying to catch the daylight from its mortal plunge. all of these tries, but He always dies rubbernecking another bloody nightfall. Dusk creeps in slow through the open window doing his best to make no noise at all a long drive into summer racing down the Sun. trying to catch the daylight from its mortal plunge. fireflies pay no attention, foxtrotting across the farmland like a lover undressed a centaur’s arrows tear shimmering flambeaus across the sky’s dark flesh. million, billion glittering jewels of brilliance the chandelier of our insignificance hangs Heaven out of my reach
3.
Upstream 03:57
Cursed myself as I hit the street My ego melted at my feet So I wade into the rising tide down to the depths of my pride In this flood of self-defeat That flows on my retreat. I tripped on my tongue on my way out the door I turned to run, but got a mouthful of floor Caught in between What I say and what I mean. Caught in between What I say and what I mean. And I won’t head for higher ground Too insecure to turn this ship around Sinking back into my idiots gloom A familiar feeling that’ll pass soon Cause when I’m lost in a dream I always can float upstream I bit my tongue to the one I adore Tired of tension Too timid to be your’s Caught in between What I say and what I mean. Caught in between What I say and what I mean.

about

A now ancient EP recorded during two cold December days in Drew's basement the winter of 2009. Rock'n'roll y'all.

credits

released February 4, 2010

All songs performed by Peter Charles Allen.

A Long Drive and Upstream -- Peter Charles Allen.
Dig Down -- Bobby Bare Jr.

Recorded, Mixed, and Mastered by Drew Ferguson
Photo by James Farace

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