Pick me up with all your other friends and we'll course out this old city
Find our youth and find her scars under her lights.
Cut me open, count my rings, dress my wounds, and take me in
Just don't send me back into that awful night.
Darling, do you gotta look so blue?
The smell of sex ain't even left the room.
We'll step back into the street,
Smoke these Stolen Camel Blues
Behind the Walgreens or the LA Tan
Pretend like we're living in
a fabled version of our native promised land.
And in the morning,
We're going to New Mexico, baby,
Where I hear that they still live that way.
So we're going to New Mexico, baby,
or we're going up in flames.
Give me gin and piss, indifference,
I'll give you buckshot teeth and pride and grief
Give me your contact high and pain,
When I'm out and raising Cain.
Give me your hand and all its spells
Watch me turn it all to hell for you.
These sprawling cities ain't for me,
this insincerity it ain't for you
so pack your car up to the roof
and meet me in
New Mexico, baby.
Or meet me in hell.
If we ain't going to New Mexico, baby,
We ain't going nowhere at all.
Tom Heyman documents life in San Francisco circa 2023, refusing to succumb to easy characterization & instead capturing the city’s nuance. Bandcamp New & Notable Oct 22, 2023
Another scorching study in hard rock from the Albuquerque outfit, filled to the brim with sludgy riffs, tortured howls, and insidious hooks. Bandcamp New & Notable Jan 12, 2022