Mrtzcmp3
  • Heavy Hearted
  • Little Mountains We Move
  • Lay of the Landfill
  • Pale
  • A Bastard Behind the Eyes
  • A Sheep. A Well
  • Fiends
  • Our Fathers' Guns
  • Our Fathers Guns
  • I Owe Some People the World But I Owe You Shit
  • Porcelain
  • Young Wounds
  • A Sheep. A Well.
  • 01 Heavy Hearted
  • Fiends II: Stillness and Cold
  • Fiends I: Skin Undone
  • 02 Lay of the Landfill
  • 03 Little Mountains We Move
  • Fiends IV: Cheap Teeth
  • 04 Pale
  • 05 Our Fathers Guns
  • 06 A Bastard Behind the Eyes
  • 07 A Sheep. A Well
  • Lay of the Landfill - Demo
  • Lay of the Landfill (Demo)
  • Pale - Demo
  • Pale (Demo)
  • Welcome
  • Our Fathers' Guns - Remix
  • Our Fathers' Guns (Remix)
  • Fiends (Live)
  • The Lion And The Wolf - Lay of the Landfill (Cover)
  • Fiends pt. 1 - Skin Undone
  • october in the railroad earth
  • Skin Undone
  • Stillness and Cold
  • Das Minüt
  • Cheap Teeth
  • Our Father's Guns
  • Fiends pt. 2 - Stillness and Cold
  • Fiends pt. 4 - Cheap Teeth
  • i'd rather be thin than famous
  • Fiends (Maida Vale Session)
  • Porcelain (Maida Vale Session)
  • Pale (Maida Vale Session)
  • Bang
  • I Owe Some People The World But I Owe You Shit (Maida Vale Session)
  • Fiends pt1: Skin Undone
  • Fiends pt2: Stillness and Cold
  • Schach

There was a little alley in San Francisco
Back of the Southern Pacific station at Third and Townsend
In redbrick of drowsy lazy afternoons
With everybody at work in offices

In the air you feel the impending rush of their commuter frenzy
As soon they'll be charging en masse
From market and Sansome buildings on foot and in buses and
All well-dressed through workingman Frisco of walk up
Truck drivers

And even the poor grime be marked Third Street of lost bums
Even Negros so hopeless and long left East
And meanings of responsibility and try
That now all they do is stand there spitting in the broken glass
Sometimes 50 in one afternoon
Against one wall at Third and Howard

It is all these all these Millbrae and San Carlos
Neat neck-tied producers and
Commuters of America and steel civilization
Rushing by with San Francisco chronicles and
Green Call-Bulletins not even enough time to be disdainful
They've got to catch 130, 132, 134, 136 all the way up to 146

'Til the time of evening supper in homes of the railroad earth
When high in the sky the magic stars
Ride above the following hotshot freight trains
It's all in California, it's all a sea

I swim out of it in afternoons of sun hot meditation in
My jeans with head on handkerchief
On brakeman's lantern or if not working on book
I look up at blue sky of perfect lost purity
And feel the warp of wood of old America beneath me

And I have insane conversations with Negroes in
Second-storey windows above and everything is pouring in
The switching moves of boxcars in that little alley
Which is so much like the alleys of Lowell and
I hear far off in the sense of coming night
That engine calling our mountains

But it was that beautiful cut of clouds
I could always see above the little S.P. alley
Puffs floating by from Oakland
Or the Gate of Marin to the north or San Jose south

The clarity of Cal to break your heart
It was the fantastic drowse and
Drum hum of lum mum afternoon, nothing to do
Old Frisco with end of land sadness

The people, the alley full of trucks
And cars of businesses nearabouts
...

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