Tiny Little Star (album)

by WOLVEZ

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03:34
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03:13
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15:10

credits

released July 6, 2015

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WOLVEZ Los Angeles, California

"West Coast experimental rock n roll!" ....

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Track Name: How Did I Get Home Last Night
I remember seeing stars
Stumbling around the room
Ceiling spinning
soaking in the gloom

Light of the day - I wonder
How did I get home last night

Yeah, it maybe does it happen
Now and again more again than now... Pay a fare in chipped teeth, ceiling climb in despair.

Light of the day I wonder
How did I get home last night

You maybe never see it coming. Wasting down your days. Mattress needs turning. Too close a shave

Yeah they'll tell you maybe next time, if the beards maybe cave, kid he ain’t not even 5'4, smiling like a snake.

Light of the day I wonder
How did I get home last night
Track Name: I Don't Trust Your Face
You left me like a dog without a collar

Howling at the rats along the wall

I don’t trust your face ….. at all

I see you sneaking spare change in your pockets

easing down the phone in the hall

I don’t trust your face ….. at all

Gotta change my direction

Spin that wheel stand or fall

watch you in that rear view mirror
…. sailor’s mouth for all

You had me with a blade at my temple

Howling to the clouds, fuck it all

I don’t trust your face … at all

I don’t trust your face at all
Track Name: Tiny Little Star
There's a tiny little star at the bottom of your heart

It can't reach the sky only dim in the dark .... The water runs cold but still there's that tiny little star

Ice on the window, fog from our breath, so much to say, so little to expect

The water runs cold, but still there’s that tiny little star.

Dare I suggest we start over
Wind that reel back again
and again

Will you second the emotion

Let that star shine brightly once again

There's a tiny little star at the bottom of your heart

It can't reach the sky only dim in the dark .... The water runs cold but still there's that tiny little star

solo

There’s a star at the bottom off your heart
not quite an ember nor a cold lump of coal
Will it freeze over? Well, that’s only for you to say
There are plenty other stars in the night sky anyway


Dare I suggest we start over
Wind that reel back again
and again

Will you second the emotion

Let that star shine brightly once again


There's a tiny little star at the bottom of your heart

It can't reach the sky only dim in the dark .... The water runs cold but still there's that tiny little star
Track Name: Prove It
There was a time when you were you and that was fine

Make up your mind
Are you gonna drink the fuel and be the fire

I'm sprung on pride, got to do the do on my time

Make up your mind
Are you jumping in the ride or counting dimes



Crawling up the walls, quite the thing to do
Head out through the stars lot you got to prove

Use what you got
Can’t make the grade, fail the lot

I’m sprung on pride, got to do the do on my time


Crawling up the walls, quite the thing to do
Head out through the stars lot you got to prove

solo

Crawling up the walls, quite the thing to do
Head out through the stars lot you got to prove
Track Name: The Castle
Here from the castle we’ll shine

Looking down upon the smoking lands …. fine

armies cleared on all sides

High with the vultures we prize

pick the meat from the last of the bones…

Oh no, they should have ran home.


In the spire….
The clouds are your throne

hey, the clouds call us home…

Last of the bloodline cut down
Though they screamed whips lashed at the sound
At the table, drank blood from the crown

He …. standing taller than tall,
might he roar but the blade still glides through
crown clatters to the ground

In the spire
the clouds are your throne

hey, the clouds call us home…

solo


After the stone’s fell to ground
Might we flee as the fires grow near
blackened stubs where the trees they were there…


In the spire….
The clouds are your throne

hey, the clouds call us home…

Da da da da da da da….
Track Name: My Heart, It Is Cold
People I see, so happy and free
take a look, "see this picture I just took"

Feeling old, neither bought or sold

When I should be bold, my heart is cold

What do you see, when we pass in the street

Does the shadow move, or hide in the grooves

broken concrete, sun casts it’s heat

When I should be bold, my heart is cold

Always those smiles in streams
Be careful, your happiness stings…


Will you reveal, in the ink that you spill
Fingers they type with the speed of a fly

Feeling old, neither bought or sold

When I should be bold my heart it is cold

Always those smiles in streams
Be careful, your happiness stings…
Always those smiles in streams
Be careful, your happiness stings…
Track Name: The Stairway
Up the stairway you’ll go

On the landing you’ll know

And the stairway wound on, landing followed by landing, not even a window or a lamp in sight, no air crept this far up the spire ….

Still she climbed on, ticket in hand, the snoring growing louder as each new span was conquered dizziness setting in, but determination overriding the effects.

Finally a landing led to a hallway, yet there were no doors cut into it’s walls: only more stairs at the opposite end… the snoring growing strangely fainter, yet even more distinct.

The stairs at the end of the hall led to yet another landing, more stairs, another landing, and ….. of course …. more stairs … but now the snoring was almost at her ear, deep, throaty, shuddery snores, the walls seeming to vibrate with each curt exhalation.

But upon this audible progress, a light could suddenly be seen peeking through the space under a door at the far end of a new and particularly narrow hallway.

She soon reaches this door, a knock, only to be greeted with silence. the snoring now pounding into the dimness.

But finally …. “Place your ticket under the door, please” a faint voice erupts from behind the door.
she does as instructed and can hear the floorboards creak under heavy, bare feet.

“Thank you” this person basically coughs and the bare feet pad away.

“But where do I go now?” she asks, but suddenly there is a second snore, even louder than the first, and in it’s volume, threatening to obscure her mission… In fact, a chorus of steady snores could now be heard, rattling the very walls.

Frustrated, she turns back down the hall, searching the uniform grey walls for doors or branching passageways, either obvious or hidden ….when, with a start, a door she could have sworn was not there a moment ago, creaked open ….. “Come on in. You’ve five minutes” an elderly yet strong voiced boomed into the stifling air of the hall.

And soon she was in a very dark room, lit only by a bedside oil lamp. The elderly man, in sleeping cap and pajamas, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I’ve been asleep a thousand years and YOU believe you’ve every right to disturb my slumber?” he asks, lightening behind his otherwise calm eyes…. “A dream, a thousand years in the making, cannot simply be returned to by going back to bed. You do know this?” he roars.

“But how can you even dream", she asks, “if you’ve not lived for so many centuries in the waking world? What feeds this dream so long and rich?”

The old man snorts (old fuddie duddie) “But what does the waking world have to offer my sleep other than fodder to feed the very worst of nightmares?” ….."What wars, famine, and disease might pad my sweet, now departed, dream with even more contented wonder?”

“But what of love?” she asks “True love has not educated you on the pleasures of the waking world?”

And this questions she asks not with feigned sincerity, but rather bemused skepticism, because you see: she has not yet felt true love herself in her very few years compared to this sagging example of missed opportunity.

He laughs hard and free, shaking his head with a snort.

“Don’t you see, my dear? Love, as you put it, is exactly what sent me to such slumber in the first place! ….. “A broken heart beats much much easier under the soothing waves of sleep.”


Now it is she who laughs … “You silly old fool! What about love for the sky, and the ocean, for friends, and experience?” ….. “Surely your dream, as mighty it may be, can’t compensate” …. “And the love of a woman or the love of a man must only enrich these wonders"

Again he laughs … “Oh but it is those oceans, skies and experiences, which cannot compensate for what the universe within can provide ….. Colors the eye organ could never process in millions of evolutionary years are ours to behold as we snore away. Oceans hovering above oceans, stars exploding into ever expanding nights …. And maybe, just maybe, I still am asleep and you are here: a gift from the waking world, to show me this love you speak of?” The old man’s voice rose as he spoke until by the last words, he was shouting into the night.

But with this question the stereo chorus of snores from within the walls suddenly ceased, followed by angry grumbling, squeaking bed springs and, creaking floorboards. The hallway outside the room was now crowded with ceased snores, dreams stretching uncomputable centuries now unplugged like an old television sets put out on the sidewalk.

And with that, she was gone: the inquiring girl: ambassador of true love. Gone into one of the ever expanding nights of which he spoke …… And now, at the door, a chorus of angry rapping…..