Get all 3 Ego the Jackal releases available on Bandcamp and save 25%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Torn Apart (EP), Great Ocean Conveyor, and Dreamer, Dare, Fly.
1. |
Tame
03:28
|
|
||
|
Her lips were code red, like the state of the nation.
Her eyes hide Saint John's revelations.
It was summer, and the sun was up.
It was burning our backs again,
when i wandered like a stray dog,
down every street and back up again.
Oh! she could tame...
She could tame a lion
But she couldn't tame ...
She couldn't tame the animal in me.
She willed her way, I lay and prayed for assistance.
She could sum me up with a stare from any distance.
We were younger, and the days were long
and the nights were never long enough.
We would chase the terminator 'round the planet
without thought / blind / off the cuff.
Oh! she could tame...
She could tame a lion
But she couldn't tame ...
She couldn't tame the animal in me.
|
||||
2. |
|
|||
|
There's a matador, standing in the middle
of the road up ahead,
waving his muleta, so as
I might attack, 'But only whores are attracted to red'
I said.
There's a snake oil salesman behind him,
with water from the fountain of youth
that he offers to me, for a pretty penny
but I decline.
I mean, who would fall for that anyway?
There's a fortune-teller begging me for silver
so that, in return, to me she can deliver
something of what is to come,
but I say 'Save it for someone that'll suffer gladly, love'.
& behind her yet, a beggar with her hands out looks to me
for retreat, from the belly or the liver
of the loneliest night, heaven banished from sight,
that now adorns her.
I mean, who would fall for that anyway?
They're only stories from the godless pride.
They're only stories from the godless pride.
They're only stories from the godless pride.
They're only stories from the godless pride.
|
||||
3. |
Dreamer, Dare, Fly
03:05
|
|
||
|
There was a fire born in the morning
& the fire burned through the evening.
It climbed higher than any dreamer dare fly.
I live on the outskirts
& i seen it swallowing the city
where i go shop on a friday & drink at night.
& the words, 'I told you so', were etched upon the bones I saw
(The bones I saw)
There was a fire born in the morning
& the fire burned through the evening.
It climbed higher than any dreamer dare fly.
I watched them tame it with water and sand,
Heard them blame it on the bloodied hands
of an assailant, from a foreign land.
& the words, 'I told you so', were etched upon the bones I saw
(The bones I saw)
& the words, 'I told you so', were etched upon the bones I saw
(The bones I saw)
|
||||
4. |
Apathy St.
03:18
|
|
||
|
The sun in the morning
was sinking like a stone, and I wasn't scared.
The light left,
the darkness was all we had to cloak our shivering bones.
What do we care we're all easy,
living on apathy street
The dead crawled, war machines stalled
& all the world readied for business as usual.
The air gained a toxic red mane
and folks outside, idly alive, were dropping like flies.
What do we care we're all easy,
living on apathy street
I pray we never leave
What do we care we're all easy,
living on apathy street
|
||||
5. |
|
|||
6. |
The Sculptor
03:22
|
|
||
|
If I wasn't a sculptor, I don't know what i'd be.
If these hands aren't making, they're taking aim
or pointing blame.
If I had any other passion to fill my days
the sculptor in me would bury it in clay
so it never sees the light of a day again
Oh! its an animal
that wants my heart upon a pedestal
in the centre of Tiananmen Square -
with an optional plaque to state my name.
If I wasn't a sculptor, I could be anything.
A sainthood or a sentence could await
but it's too late.
The sculptor in me has already chiseled my fate
from stone, with its bare claws.
Ive heard it moaning, but to it,
I'm only another host
Oh! its an animal
that wants my heart upon a pedestal
in the centre of Tiananmen Square -
with an optional plaque to state
my name / my age / my DOB / the date I died
(so people know I was alive).
Oh! it's a wonderful life
But it was never mine.
|
||||
7. |
Finisterre
03:12
|
|
||
|
I was bored once,
so I walked the 'El Camino de Santiago' solo,
& arrived at Finisterre.
There was nothing but a tape playing on a table,
a message for the able, for anyone who cared,
that went,
'Don't waste away your thoughts today, they shape the way you see tomorrow, dear'.
So I listened and I reasoned I should write it on the walls.
These sobering lines, are out of time - but they might just save us all tonight.
I got bored again,
so I walked the 'El Camino de Santiago' solo,
& arrived at Finisterre.
Where there once was a tape playing on a table,
a note read 'Unavailable. Taken for repair'.
'Don't waste away your thoughts today, they shape the way you see tomorrow, dear'.
So I listened and I reasoned I should write it on the walls.
These sobering lines, are out of time - but they might just save us all tonight.
|
||||
8. |
|
|||
|
The end of the world is on the table
& has been for a while, so i'm told.
We have just been grazing in the fields,
oblivious and slowly growing old.
& there's nothing we can do tonight,
but sing the decimation blues.
We are the great unwashed, and we're alarmed.
We are the great unwashed, and we're alarmed, yes we are.
The end of the world is on the table
& has been for a while so i'm told.
We were born in a nuclear winter.
The seasons changed, the air was just as cold.
& there's nothing we can do tonight,
but sing the decimation blues.
We are the great unwashed, and we're alarmed.
We are the great unwashed, and we're alarmed, yes we are.
|
||||
9. |
|
|||
|
I wander these streets at night
to put to test a theory;
That every corner I turn, hasn't already been mapped out for me.
But fate is so much quicker than my intellect, it would seem.
The only time I can escape its stranglehold is when I dream.
So tell me how I'm to know, you're the one
playing us like pawns, until we're consumed by the sun,
at the end.
I make like i'm headed one way, then at the last second
I scramble towards a new direction, but it stands to prove nothing.
She renders every war & liberation futile.
Every advancing armies only ever laying claim to her gain.
So tell me how I'm to know, you're the one
playing us like pawns, until we're consumed by the sun,
at the end.
This war was designed, with us in mind.
This war was designed, with us in mind.
So tell me how I'm to know, you're the one
playing us like pawns, until we're
consumed by the sun,
consumed by the sun,
consumed by the sun,
at the end.
|
||||
Ego the Jackal Ireland
Ego the Jackal is the alias of Irish singer/songwriter, Connor McGowan.
Ego the Jackal's
1st studio album, 'Great Ocean Conveyor' was released on 28th March, 2014 - and is available for download, from right here.
Keep up-to-date with news / shows etc @ www.egothejackal.com
... more
If you like Ego the Jackal, you may also like:
A vibrant vision of "Central Americana" from the Costa Rica-based artist, blending heartland devotionals with playful Tropicália grooves.
go to album
The Texan sibling indie-folk duo is back with a new album that is filled with sweeping, cinematic tracks.
go to album
Island Intervals
by Death Vessel
DV recorded this warm and intimate album in Reykjavik with Sigur Ros singer Jónsi and producer Alex Somers.
go to album
The Australian singer's debut solo album is filled with creative indie pop tracks.
go to album
Loosely structured around the Pokémon game of the same name, “Fire Red” is hushed and layered indie folk.
go to album
Tense, moody, guitar-forward songs from VanWyck that emphasize tension and fragility.
go to album
Tides of a Teardrop
by Watchhouse (formerly Mandolin Orange)
The forthcoming album from Mandolin Orange blends rustic Americana melodies with aching, orchestral arrangements.
go to album
