A song about those dark satanic mills that blight our pleasant pastures.
The Grey Cards – “Tyranny of Us” (free download and lyrics)
This one is about the kind of relationship that destroys the self, but also about the surveillance society we have (most of us) willingly signed up for.
Lyrics:
On my own, I wasn’t going anywhere / A hermit at home, and no one seemed to care
So I traded solitude for security, and look where I ended up / Alone again under the Tyranny of Us
We met, we made it, both of us came clean / Now before you say it, I know just what you mean
If you’re not doing something wrong, then why make a fuss / It’s just life under the Tyranny of Us
From this trap there’s no releasing / All this knowing, there’s no peace / Everything I say and do is old news to you
And I dream as we lie here in our room / I’m a ghost in an undiscovered tomb
Be yourself, but be careful: you don’t wanna to share too much / Living under the Tyranny of Us
From this trap there’s no releasing / All this knowing, there’s no peace / Everything I say and do is old news to you
The Grey Cards – “Dry Heave” (free download and lyrics video)
The Grey Cards – “Little Apocalypse” (free download and lyrics video)
The Grey Cards – “Sturmpanzer” (free download and lyrics video)
The Grey Cards – “Beverly Kenney” (free download and lyrics)
Lyrics:
New York 1960 feels like a ghost town / Just rock n’ roll zombies and playboys on the prowl
Beverly Kenney won’t see spring through / But what can you do when you’re born to be blue
The radio’s tuned to that old jazz station / The saccharine sound of a generation
She lays her head on a moonlit bed and out come the stars / And swingin’ through the static that’s Johnny Smith, playin’ his guitar
Letter to her mother on the bulletin board / Bottle of bourbon empty on the floor
Medicine cabinet with the pills all gone / The lingering echoes of a lonely song
The radio’s tuned to that old jazz station / The saccharine sound of a generation
She lays her head on a moonlit bed and out come the stars / And swingin’ through the static that’s Johnny Smith, playin’ his guitar
It seems once and awhile someone’s born too late / The cruel-hearted critics think they’re just second-rate
Some gloomy sundays aren’t just bad dreams / And some people drown when they swim upstream
She lays her head on a moonlit bed and out come the stars / And swingin’ through the static that’s Johnny Smith, playin’ his guitar
The Grey Cards 