Get all 18 Cannonball Statman releases available on Bandcamp and save 50%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Hard to Break, Icepick (9th Anniversary Remaster), Miracle on Neon Clown Avenue, Rhinoceros Crossing, Interdimensional Ice Cream Cake, Modern Elephants, Playing Dead, Outa / Orda, and 10 more.
1. |
Sparks!
03:25
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There is a spark;
a peculiar electric charge,
in everything and everyone.
All those lonely years,
day by day,
the blinding men came to turn it off,
'till we forgot to turn it on.
Oh, we got lost
in the saddest place.
My sister from Mars used to sing me songs;
sometimes, I would see her in everyone,
and we went laughing like we were crazy
(and we are;
that is why they locked us up
when we got caught).
They've been living off the hidden part of you.
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2. |
Ghosts!
02:25
|
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Ghosts are living in the gas stations of America.
Ghosts are living in the gas stations.
Ghosts!
Ghosts!
Don't go to the public park today.
Even if you haven't been outside in years,
you'll see the Sun shooting through the December sky
like a drone bomb;
he brings Democracy and says,
"Liberation is Tyranny!"
and
"Freedom is Slavery!"
and
"War is Peace!"
And you'll say,
"Mr. President, I refuse to take part in your
dinosaur fossil death cult!"
And the Sun, he just stares down at you and says,
"baby, I refuse to leave you be.
I refuse to leave you be,
Ghost!
Ghost!
Come to live inside my gas station,
Ghost!"
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3. |
Hard to Break
06:24
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Walking home from Far Rockaway
always felt like a million miles.
Followed the silhouette
of the train tracks under the moon;
oh, honey, I remember.
He came up from the East River,
golden clouds in his hair.
He dissolved on Delancey;
now his whereabouts are unknown.
He said,
"I'm easy to love,
but I'm hard to break;
I am easy to love,
but I'm hard to break.
If you ever break me,
I'll be broken awhile.
Oh, and when I return,
I will tear you apart."
The year is 1996;
Maria's reading the newspaper.
Sips a coffee, fresh out of the pot,
and her world is on fire.
I am out of my body;
you are on a motorbike.
We're in hiding on that stairway again;
two boys from Brooklyn,
lost in something way over our heads.
You said...
There is power in a union.
There is power in a mountain.
There is power in the empire that took you;
but it goes out,
as all,
in the end,
go.
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4. |
||||
Lee dee dee...
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5. |
Pennsylvania
04:44
|
|||
Midnight,
out in Pennsylvania;
and you know,
I sure miss ya.
Tonight,
I dreamed you'd run away from home;
you set out
on your open road alone,
screaming,
"see you never!
You say you know me,
but I don't know ya.
You don't wanna know
what I'd do to ya,
if you put your hands on me
or my family again."
Jester,
don't cry;
big girls,
we don't cry,
except today,
and tomorrow,
and every time
someone we love dies.
I never knew
how much I'd hurt ya.
Now you're living
on the water;
you are drifting off,
like sirens in the trees,
snow in windy March,
and fire hydrant sprinklers.
So long,
like forever.
It's been awhile
since I've seen yer
sleepy parking lot
and sibling drowning in beer;
it's been a horrible
fucking year.
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6. |
F Train Over Brooklyn
04:13
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Still living in the park,
always working after school;
somewhat hated.
Still protecting her old car,
still can't drive it anymore;
never hopeless.
Still trying to get out of Brooklyn;
still avoiding relationships.
'Cause you might only get one life,
you know,
that's the thing that scares her.
Still on the F train over Brooklyn;
still thinking about her life.
Still stuck inside the piano;
need to find some way to breathe
without screaming.
Still avoiding her old friends,
but she found some new ones,
and on the F train,
they're living the life;
sleeping on the F train,
really living the life.
And on the F train over Brooklyn,
struck by the sunlight;
on the F train over Brooklyn,
at the beginning of her life.
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7. |
Helsinki, 1993
05:20
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He is a water man;
he lives between two worlds,
on the rusty train.
You see him in the parklot of the mallmart,
in a light snow, under the moon.
You take off your whole shirt at once,
and you say you'll take his ashes with you
in your cup.
It's cold tonight
(it's winter),
so he takes you in a boat to his apartment,
and defrosts you with his hands.
His serpentine body pulls up to you
undercover,
and you're resting in the branches
of a tule tree.
He teases you with a window
into your living eyes,
or a guided tour of the sleepy port city
in the middle of the night,
where he lives.
He takes off all his clothes,
he puts on a suit and tie;
he takes off all his clothes,
and kisses the clouds in his window,
with his lavender lipstick on,
and he laughs.
He takes off all his clothes,
except for a pair
of his turquoise colored underwear;
they match the ocean,
the sky sometimes,
and the rims of his glasses
he left on a pillow
by your right cheek.
He makes a fresh pot of coffee
for everybody,
and screams in sacred fractals
and New York City subway train hallucinations;
his neighbors are all synesthetes,
and they can see everything,
while they're sleeping.
His body is cold,
until it's not;
he places his face under the sheets
and licks your legs with his hot tongue,
bathing in black coffee
fresh from the pot.
He kisses you gently
with his tongue in your mouth,
and yours in a river;
he made it, before he was born,
in his sleep.
He dances around his apartment
to the song of the lonely streetlamp.
He files his nails
like shaved ice
melting on pink sand
on a beach
in Gemini season
in the evening;
and he takes you to see the shipwrecks.
His body is cold
(it's winter).
He says he wishes there were
a 24 hour diner
you could walk in, together,
have a fresh pot of coffee,
watch the local politicians
scream at television
with their brains off,
and you might even have a chat
with the waitress
about psychedelic drugs and life;
but you're going to the shipwrecks.
You say you saw your father
through a window in the local morgue
the other day,
staring, lobotomized, blankly,
near the corner of a wall;
you were surprised to see anyone you knew
in this town,
except your water man,
who you always see,
wherever you are.
He holds his hand
with his hand,
in the palm,
and takes you to the shipwrecks.
You can see his breath like a rainbow
under a bossanova street lamp
on the ground.
You take turns sipping
his purple hot chocolate mug,
with English tourist accents on deck
in case a cop spots your open container.
The mug is all painted
with black lipstick stains
from his past life.
He says he still does magic
with it sometimes,
but only for good.
You crawl into the ship together
and stare through the clouds in the window
at a waxing moon,
next to the skeleton of the captain.
You say you saw the captain
through a window in the local morgue
the other day,
staring, lobotomized, blankly,
near the corner of a wall;
you were surprised to see anyone you knew
in this ship,
except your water man,
who you always see,
wherever you are.
He holds his hand
with his hand,
in the palm,
and you're warm again.
He takes off all his clothes
and his glasses,
and stares through the clouds in the window
into the water.
He sees Sedna's fingers faintly
swimming around down there,
and he cries.
You embrace him with your body
and your arms all around him,
and you kiss him on the lips three times,
and you whisper in his ear,
with your saltwater soul
spilling down your cupbearer heartroads
into the infinite black:
"It's almost over."
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8. |
||||
You're living on the Mercury line,
from Gemini Street to Hermes Road.
Dreaming on the Mercury line;
loving the dream we all know.
Meet me;
the coast is clear now.
The coast is queer now
(the coast of love).
You'll find the water bearer
(the water bear bearer).
He's not drowning anymore;
he's in the air.
You only need about a half of what you're paid to get by,
around there;
you only need about two strong cups of coffee to get high,
all night.
You're living on the Mercury line;
loving a beautiful woman.
Living on the Mercury line;
loving a beautiful soul.
You need to breathe,
you need to live;
you need to lie some of the time,
but not for long.
You found the water bearer
(the water bear bearer).
He's not afraid anymore;
he's in the air.
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9. |
||||
Wooooooosh
Ahhhhhh
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10. |
Grow
02:03
|
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In the morning, you grab a coffee,
and you never know what it does to you;
gone to workin' on the mornin' train alone,
your body's quakin' like a broken engine.
It's time to grow your hair out
against the wall
that you've been drawn inside.
There are pieces;
there they are.
There are pieces inside your head!
There are pieces!
And there you are;
and there you are!
In the evening, we tell the story
about that special someone who is falling through the system,
and all the people who are there just to remind you
to take your medicines at night,
so you forget
you.
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11. |
Find Someone
03:53
|
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Find someone to care about;
someone who cares about you.
Sometimes, you have to go searching through
the secret streets at dawn,
and sometimes, they just come in,
out of the blue,
on these cold, cloudy days!
Find someone to scream about;
someone who screams about you.
Sometimes, you have to go searching through
the secret streets at dawn,
and sometimes, they just come in,
out of the rain,
on these cold, cloudy days!
Find someone to dream about;
someone who dreams about you.
You don't have to go searching through
the secret streets at dawn;
tonight, they just come in,
out of the cold,
on these sad, lonely days!
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12. |
Sparks! (Jazz Mix)
03:38
|
|||
There is a spark;
a peculiar electric charge,
in everything and everyone.
All those lonely years,
day by day,
the blinding men came to turn it off,
'till we forgot to turn it on.
Oh, we got lost
in the saddest place.
My sister from Mars used to sing me songs;
sometimes, I would see her in everyone,
and we went laughing like we were crazy
(and we are;
that is why they locked us up
when we got caught).
They've been living off the hidden part of you.
|
||||
13. |
||||
Midnight,
out in Pennsylvania;
and you know,
I sure miss ya.
Tonight,
I dreamed you'd run away from home;
you set out
on your open road alone,
screaming,
"see you never!
You say you know me,
but I don't know ya.
You don't wanna know
what I'd do to ya,
if you put your hands on me
or my family again."
Jester,
don't cry;
big girls,
we don't cry,
except today,
and tomorrow,
and every time
someone we love dies.
I never knew
how much I'd hurt ya.
Now you're living
on the water;
you are drifting off,
like sirens in the trees,
snow in windy March,
and fire hydrant sprinklers.
So long,
like forever.
It's been awhile
since I've seen yer
sleepy parking lot
and sibling drowning in beer;
it's been a horrible
king year.
|
||||
14. |
||||
Walking home from Far Rockaway
always felt like a million miles.
Followed the silhouette
of the train tracks under the moon;
oh, honey, I remember.
He came up from the East River,
golden clouds in his hair.
He dissolved on Delancey;
now his whereabouts are unknown.
He said,
"I'm easy to love,
but I'm hard to break;
I am easy to love,
but I'm hard to break.
If you ever break me,
I'll be broken awhile.
Oh, and when I return,
I will tear you apart."
The year is 1996;
Maria's reading the newspaper.
Sips a coffee, fresh out of the pot,
and her world is on fire.
I am out of my body;
you are on a motorbike.
We're in hiding on that stairway again;
two boys from Brooklyn,
lost in something way over our heads.
You said...
|
Cannonball Statman New York, New York
Romantic punk.
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