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by Chris Black

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Dunno 03:01
Why’s that cigarette taste so good? Dunno dunno dunno. Why can’t I do like I ought to should? Dunno dunno dunno. Even last night I was something of an idiot, drinking until something broke. Woke up with blood in my hair … Dunno dunno dunno. Why do women make me feel so bad? Dunno dunno dunno. Making me remember what I used to have. Dunno dunno dunno. Even last night I was something of an idiot, drinking and carrying on, crying all night at your kitchen table over everything that I’d done wrong. Why can’t I be the man that you wanted? Dunno dunno dunno. Why do I act so backward and stunted? Dunno dunno dunno. Even last night I was something of an idiot, drinking alone in my room, looking at your pictures and reading your letters, and smelling your perfume.
Flying through the chilly air, unaware of falling. I remember getting there, I don't remember crawling. I. I think I'll have a little too much wine. Anything to pass the time. The world dissolves like a dandelion. We all wake up on someone else's mind. I never saw the line, but everything, everything. Wouldn't it be nice to get a second try? Everything's alright. II. It's such a lovely night. Just like a mystery book. It always ends too soon. And we regret our haste. Not tonight, I promise. Did you hear something crashing? III. Johnny broke his ankle on a scooter ride. The neighbors heard the racket and they ran out to look. There was blood on his face, gravel in the wound. He slept like a baby and he didn't want to wake. “Baby are you hurt? Baby are you lost?” He screams and he cries, “I'm so unhappy.”
Bango 05:07
Liquor store shine and dazzle … I am in here. Give me something warm enough to melt a girl’s heart. I’m drowned — I’m alive. Hallelujah, I live dangerously. My tires sing on the road, is it raining for real? Or am I imagining things? Oh Lord, I’ve been imagining things. I’m here at your gate and I step off into thin air. I live dangerously. Frogs and crickets, wind and leaves, gravel crunches beneath my feet, and I am knocking, an April Fool, and a bottle shines in my hand for you. Warm and rare, a whisper lives in there swimming in amber. Open and listen, tremble and blush, capture something. She’s out of town — I won’t be missed. As long as we don’t kiss, baby, it’s all right. Let’s live dangerously.
Just before the accident I felt something break. The wheel spun away. I came to in a lake. The sky did not look right to me, the moon was upside down. Schools of shiny fish played hide-and-seek in the clouds. The water was cold, and I started to tremble. I hadn’t felt so lonesome in as long as I remember. Let go — it’s okay. Heavy heart, Moonlight Lake. Let go — it’s okay. I forgive you. I remember feeling like my life had been worthless. I dimly saw your pretty face above the shimmering surface. Were you crying? Girl, I’m sorry. You know I couldn’t stop. Add it to the list of all the virtuous things I’m not. Bye bye bye, it’s my turn to cry. I’ll never get a chance to set this right before I die. Let go — it’s okay. Heavy heart, Moonlight Lake. Let go — it’s okay. I forgive you. Glug, glug, glug, glug, glug, glug, glug, all the way down. I sank quickly to the bottom of the watery sky. The mud sucked me under and I thought I had died. The fishes swam away, and I bounced off the wall. Sprawled out flat on my face, passed out cold in the hall. Did you carry me to bed? I didn’t mean to put you through it. The water wasn’t water it was whiskey and I knew it. Let go — it’s okay. Heavy heart, Moonlight Lake. Let go — it’s okay. I forgive you.
In my feathered heart I know it’s spring, and I fly north tonight, I take wing. Nevermind the snow. Wire, wire, rest a while. Curl toes and sleep. Gray skies, summer eyes, magpies and me, nevermind the snow. December in the south can be deceiving — balmy tonight, but tomorrow freezing. Corn been gone, taken, stalks will I sleep. Feathered heart mistaken. Bird go deep. This is what you wanted. This is your spring. This bright, shining passion, this shivering thing. Nevermind the snow. Nevermind the snow.
I am afraid of what’s inside of me. Something awful. Something weak. Some kind of hurt is hidden away, and I feel nothing, and I am afraid of what’s inside of you. Something desperate, greedy and small. You’re never finished, you’re never okay. You’re never happy. And I am afraid. Is this the end? Is this the last? You can smell it like rain. Where has our love gone? Where is my friend? Who will save us now? This is the end. The end of childhood, the end of knowing, the end of our dreams. We had such riches, but it’s all been spent, and there’s nothing left to leave. This is the end. Hate me, I took everything. Forgive me, I took nothing. Will you miss me when I’m gone, like I missed you before? Before we went wrong? Like I missed you before we went wrong. You’re long gone. When did you go? Was it your father? Was it the money? Was it my emptiness all along? Nobody’s perfect and I’m long gone, driving for days, snow-blind and tired. Don’t try to find me — I’ve done nothing wrong. I’ve done nothing right. Nothing at all. Say goodbye to nothing at all.
The leaves were dry. It was July then. The birds were tired and silent, and the wind in the leaves sounded just like your voice. Baby, please don’t forget me. I’m sorry. I was a bad dream. Baby, I must have been crazy. Wait, wait, please — there is still hope left. Stop, please, I am not done yet. Baby please don’t forget me. Who could ever love you like I do? And who could ever love me but you? The leaves are dead. It is December. My birthday’s tomorrow, baby. Do you remember? And I … I’m about to grow old alone. Baby please come back to me. Baby please come back to me.
I used to drink every night. Now I just drink on Wednesdays, stirring the ashes of love. I used to cry every night. Now I just cry on Wednesdays, stirring the ashes of love. Well I could get over you, but I don’t want to, because missing you is all I have left. I should forget you, but I don’t want to. I just don’t want to. I once was happy every night. Now only on Wednesdays, while I’m stirring the ashes of love.


Nashti zhas vorta po drom o bango says the old Romany proverb, which means you can't walk straight when the road is crooked.

These ten songs are memories of the crooked road I've been on for the last six years, and the broken legs I got while trying to walk straight.

You want regret? You want explanations? Do you want to sit and stew, and occasionally crawl around like a little animal of some kind?

Come in, come in. Sit down. I'm glad you're here.


released April 8, 2011


Some rights reserved. Please refer to individual track pages for license info.



Chris Black Raleigh, North Carolina

Chris Black is a multi-instrumental composer and performer living in Wake County, North Carolina. He has been a member of such groups as Shoulders (Austin, TX), Les Wampas (Paris, FR), Golden Arm Trio (Austin, TX), The Wedding's Off (L.A., CA), and the Taraf de Tucson (Tucson, AZ). He is the founder of the alt-classical, D.I.Y. chamber music concert series ChamberLab. ... more

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