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Carry Me to Canaan 4:530:00/4:53
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Queen of the Dead 3:490:00/3:49
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Devil You Know 5:330:00/5:33
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0:00/4:52
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0:00/4:47
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The Southside 3:340:00/3:34
Welcome to the Stories and Lyrics Page!

The Words and Stories that Inspired them.
Welcome to the Stories and Lyrics page. You will find all song lyrics and the stories behind the music here. All words and music are copyright Mathew R. deRiso
FLATLANDER
Coming off old foggy top
southbound hauler on another drop
I got a sack of tall freight about a pony high
I'm built as mean as a mule good Lord I’m fixing to die
You know that broken road never saved a soul
it only leads to the fire of ruination below.
A little rocky on the slow down
southbound hauler on the edge of town
Another full cup on a dark night
I’m bound to carry it out hell, I’ll be shining a light
You know that old line never had name
but neither did the devil boy they’re one and the same - they've got me
Burning up a flatland gap
suffering a dead route dry
burning up a flatland gap
gonna’ roll until I die
Oh, until I die…
Burning up a flatland gap
suffering a dead route dry
burning up a flatland gap gonna’ roll until I die
Out of the way old Baby Blue
won’t be troubled with the sight of you
Another cold start with the hammer down
hell, I’ll be revving it up before I roll out of town
you know that broken road will only lead you astray
and you won’t rise up to ride another day
Burning up a flatland gap
suffering a dead route dry
burning up a flatland gap
gonna roll until I die
Oh, until I die...
(c) 2021 Mathew R. deRiso
RED BALL
I sleep on a box car floor
dirge of heaven at my door
bindle stiff and a scab of bread
waiting for the morning that I wake up dead
Grows so cold you can see your breath
somewhere between life and death
Gray ghost humming in a minor key
My God, it sounds just like the whistle of the Milwaukee
Where the listless tramps still wail and sing
A spirit haunts the cabin of a hobo king
Skin flint tinder and a nation sack
On the Red Ball tearing down a one way track
Been so long since I’ve seen my home
I'm bound to ride and cursed to roam
Trepidation’s only son stranded on that twilight run
I Fear the end is drawing near
Old Satan is the engineer
heard him whisper soft and still
If I don’t get you boy, the Red Ball will
Where the listless tramps still wail and sing
A spirit haunts the cabin of a hobo king
Skin flint tinder and a nation sack
On a Red Ball tearing down a one way track
Heard him whisper soft and still
If I don’t get you boy the Red Ball Will
Heard him whisper soft and still
If I don’t get you boy the Red Ball Will
Heard him whisper soft and still
If I don’t get you boy the Red Ball Will
Heard him whisper soft and still
If I don’t get you boy the Red Ball Will
(c) 2021 Crazy Poet Publishing (ASCAP)
QUEEN OF THE DEAD
God moved on the water built an altar for the bitch on the bed
I left a half a pack of Lucky's and tequila for the Queen of the Dead
an old memento for the faithful keep the decor Mexicali
sporting fashion resurrected from the San Fernando Valley
rocking Tijuana twang on demolition train to the roots
Majesty for free she wants to boogie with you all night long
a sinner's prayer left at the edge of her crown equipped to do you wrong
they got a rattle in the motor and a spirit in the bottle
putting one hand on the body and the other on the throttle
little something for your nerves?
As you navigate the curves of the sacred
We're gonna float it on down the river
shake it till you start to shiver
We're gonna float it on down the river
shake it till you're tumbling back
bow to the Queen of the Dead
We're gonna float it on down the river
shake it till you start to shiver
We're gonna float it on down the river
shake it till you're tumbling back
yeah yeah yeah
God moved on the water build an altar for the bitch on the bed
I left a half a pack of Lucky's and tequila for the Queen of the Dead
an old memento for the faithful keep the decor Mexicali
sporting fashion resurrected from the San Fernando Valley
just another devotee here to set the captives free
Bow to the Queen of the Dead
Bow to the Queen of the Dead
yeah, Bow to the Queen of the Dead
yeah, yeah, yeah alright
(c) 2021 Crazy Poet Publishing (ASCAP)
DEVIL YOU KNOW
I am the needle and thread
the dress on the floor and the girl in your bed
I’m the night rolling in like a flood
the sharp taste of bourbon brewed thicker than blood
I’m the bottle that always runs dry
the thrill of that sweet empty look in your eyes
The cries of the first bastard son
the ache in the heart of the man on the run
I'm a dark and decrepit motel
the guilt and regret that burn hotter than hell
I’m an orphan with nowhere to go
the ghost in your room the damned dirty devil you know
I am the red neon light
resurrecting desire on a cold autumn night
all the reckless abandon you'll own
sanctified in the throes of my presence alone
I’m the thrill of a passionate lie
you can hold in your heart till day that you die
the lover that lead you to stray
every dark deed you’ve done that you can’t wash away
I'm a dark and decrepit motel
the guilt and regret that burn hotter than hell
I’m an orphan with nowhere to go
the ghost in your room the damned dirty devil you know
The devil you know
I am the glare of the sun
a renegade priest and his wild ravaged nun
I'm the thunder that rattles the sky
the lightning that strikes in the blink of an eye
I’m the poison you're destined to crave
the feeling you'll chase till you lay in your grave
I’m the silence that comes like friend
all the darkness you'll learn to embrace in the end
I'm a dark and decrepit motel
the guilt and regret that burn hotter than hell
I'm an orphan with nowhere to go
the ghost in your room every damned dirty devil you know
The devil you know
The devil you know
(c) 2021 Crazy Poet Publishing (ASCAP)
OLD SPIRITS
Old spirits bore the scars
a veil of endless stars
a lonely cosmic river wrought with sand
they reek of blood and rage
a sordid sacred page that flutters in the twilight from our view
they offer up their broken hearts to you
Old spirits suffered long a sad and lonesome song
its melody left scattered on the shore
they fill that painted sky with neon lullabies
that fade into the darkness evermore
reborn as paltry shadows at our door
Old Spirits made of dust
a coat of heavy rust
their wild and restless hearts still carry on
they’re drawn back to the light though they stumble through the night
to ramble through the dreams of you and I
they waste away but they will never die
Old spirits bore the scars
a veil of endless stars
a lonely cosmic river wrought with sand
they reek of blood and rage
a sordid sacred page that flutters in the twilight from our view
they offer up their broken hearts to you
(c) 2021 Crazy Poet Publishing (ASCAP)
CARRY ME TO CANAAN
Chipped blue plates
falling off the stack
I should’ve never built the commons by the mainline track
most folks left when the town turned dry
nothing left to salvage but the place won’t die
I met a hell hole girl with the sunburned skin
she made me a believer once the lights went dim
down at the old depot I didn’t need a reservation
Lord it, doubles as a brothel and a railroad station
I never bought a ticket
call me cavalier
but I’ve been running with the devil since I wound up here
I didn’t see it coming Lord, I heard that whistle blow
it left me yearning for the freedom only dead men know
On a long black train
raising up a howl
carry me to Canaan if I turn back now
free my soul been straining from the load
of a life turned wicked down that old...
down that old...
lonely pitchfork road
Yeah I got a sunburned girl
now she's sprawled out on the floor
and I heard a cold wind rattling on that old screen door
I'll pray the night train come
if it’s blacker than the sky
so I can hitch a ride to glory on the day I die
yeah, but the myth’s no good
God the lies stay stuck
and now it's rattling like the motor in her old man’s truck
down at the old depot with that brothel round the back
Lord, a phantom locomotive took possession of the track
never bought a ticket
call me cavalier
but I’ve been running with the devil since I wound up here
I didn’t see it coming
No, I heard that whistle blow
it left me yearning for the freedom only dead men know
On a long black train
raising up a howl
carry me to Canaan if I turn back now
free my soul been straining from the load
of a life turned wicked down a pitchfork road
Lord, Long Black train now it's coming down the track and it’ll
carry me to Canaan and I won’t come back, No
Free my soul been straining from the load
of a life turned wicked down that old...
down that old ... lonely pitchfork road
(c) 2021 Crazy Poet Publishing (ASCAP)
BATON ROUGE EXORCISM
I keep it all in that room
the sweet smell of ashes and drugstore perfume
river of smoke in the air
a broken prayer
Jolee pinned up on the mirror
pale skin washed white Lord, I wish she were here
clothed in a blue melody
inside of me
When I left Baton Rogue I had nothing to lose but my name
just an old sacred heart left to splinter apart in the flame
grifters and ghosts shrouded in rags and rope
laid to rest in a watery grave
When I left Baton Rogue there was nothing the good Lord could save
I hear the voice of of the dead
their whispers creep in through the holes in my head
drowning in all that I've done
thy kingdom come
slave to to these visions within
all spirit and bone till the darkness creeps in
destined to die on the run
thy will be done
When I left Baton Rogue I had nothing to lose but my name
just an old sacred heart left to splinter apart in the flame
grifters and ghosts shrouded in rags and rope
laid to rest in a watery grave
When I left Baton Rogue there was nothing the good Lord
angel swing down from a wire heaven high
wings shining bright as the stars in the sky
come bearing light to the lost every wayfaring soul that done fell
When I left Baton Rogue Lord that spirit done led me to hell
I keep it all in that room
the sweet smell of ashes and drugstore perfume
(c) 2021 Crazy Poet Publishing (ASCAP)
TRUCK STOP AT THE END OF THE WORLD
the gods of this world fell asleep in the lap of the ditch
shallow but sure it could hold any memory you wish
we could grind up their bones in a brew fit for raising the dead
put grease in our guts and these ten gallon hats on our heads
we patched every crack in the concrete and wrapped it in chrome
strung up those forty watt lights and I made it our home
but this acre of asphalt and diamonds was doomed from the start
so I traded our bowl full dust for this old wicked heart
We are the victims of love
and we never lost faith that there was someone above
that would leave us to suffer and die
so I traded my soul for the first taste of pie
faded road maps and cheap gasoline
the last case a beer and a smut magazine
holding on to that vision of you
till that all night Oasis appears
or it all fades to blue
it all fades to blue
Doomed romance wrapped up like a souvenir
Love left us broken and it lead us here
We are the victims of love
and we never lost faith that there was someone above
that would leave us to suffer and die
so I traded my soul for the first taste of pie
faded road maps and cheap gasoline
the last case a beer and a smut magazine
holding on to that vision of you
till that all night Oasis appears
or it all fades to blue
it all fades to blue
the gods of this world fell asleep in the lap of the ditch
shallow but sure it could hold any memory you wish
we could grind up their bones in a brew fit for raising the dead
put grease in our guts and these ten gallon hats on our heads
(c) 2021 Crazy Poet Publishing (ASCAP)
THE SOUTHSIDE
there's a broken horizon
and a wide open sky
there's a ghost in the engine
and a dream left to die
all the darkness descending
all the love that you fear
every damned dirty devil
(that) done followed you here
every spirit that wanders
from the outskirts of hell
they all gather together
at the Southside Motel
there's a light in the distance
where all faith becomes doubt
and it flickers and flashes
but it never burns out
by the edge of that highway
on a spindle of steel
every sign points to heaven
and your death becomes real
calling all of you sinners
with soul left to sell
drink cup full of sorrow
at the Southside Motel
there's no mercy at midnight
no end to our days
there's a ghost in the engine
(that) God's grace couldn't save
love was never the answer
yet in all of it's power
there's a great resurrection
down the hall every hour...
we could rise up together
break free of this spell
just to wake up each morning
at the Southside Motel
(c) 2021 Crazy Poet Publishing (ASCAP)
ROADHOUSE SHRINE
Dust storm blowing through a cardboard town
tore the roof tops off left the asphalt brown
Flax sun setting on a junkyard road
with the tin piled high Lord, it shines like gold
I've been living in the country born to push that mule
got to plow these fields till our train comes through
an I'm looking for revival up a slack jaw line
with the hacksaw locals in a Roadhouse Shrine.
Yeah, they rearranged the letters on the old marquee
it reads "YOU STILL CAN'T TOUCH" and "ONLY THE DEAD DRINK FREE"
I got a big hipped mama she's a Tennessee Belle with her tattooed thigh
Lord she's come to cast her spell
They got a poor boy rolling down a main street holler
hawking earthbound voodoo for your redneck dollar
buy a crown roses for your valentine
if she's a half nude prophet in a Roadhouse Shrine
Yeah I still believe that maybe there's a light that shines for you and I
a faded mystery cradled in the shadows of a broken sky
If there's a god above waiting on the verses of a whispered prayer
I'll try to find the words scattered in the wreckage if I find you there
If I find you there
There was nothing left to suffer but our ashtray breath
we caught a white freightliner on down to Nazareth
that's where I bought a plastic Jesus off an antique vendor
she just spit out her gum and stuck the savior to the fender
Yeah we spent another evening in a dim motel
in a three way tryst with a Tennessee Belle
tired of seeking shelter with the rambling kind
and hacksaw locals in a Roadhouse Shrine
Roadhouse Shrine
(c) 2021 Crazy Poet Publishing (ASCAP)