The 2006 debut EP from The Curb, featuring Down Like Hell, Friendly Fire and the oddball hit Vincent's Ear. Produced by The Curb. Photography and design by Clare Kobasa.
Site design and content by Hillel Arnold, based on Cover template for Bootstrap by @mdo.
There’s a thousand points of light shining through my window
There’s a draft creeping in under the door
There’s a child left standing at the gates of Hamelin
There’s a new tailor for the emperor
Running won’t save you any
Running won’t save you any
Running won’t save you anymore
There’s a drum that’s pounding out a martial rhythm
There’s a beggar with a song
There’s a lookout shouting iceberg ahoy
There’s a band playing on
Running won’t save you any
Running won’t save you any
Running won’t save you anymore
Down down like a fugitive to justice
Down like a stone
Down like fear down like thunder
Down like hell
There’s a pilot alone over the south Pacific
There’s a tidal wave coming down
There’s an army of fools and they'’re all laughing
There’s justice fleeing this town
Running won’t save you any
Running won’t save you any
Running won’t save you anymore
There’s a line forming for the halls of justice
There’s a battle for a corporate soul
There’s a young man standing at the foot of the altar
There’s a country going down the rabbit-hole
Running won’t save you any
Running won’t save you any
Running won’t save you anymore
As if I could say he’s not my president to be cleared of any crime
As if the only cause worth fighting for is my own private life
As if I could say that walking away is just acting polite
As if you were wrong and I was right
I’ve been losing faith in the things that carry me
Losing my hope in the unseen
Losing love for my leaders but I still believe
In the size of infinity
As if I could say things would be different with a change in regime
As if I could further both a compromise and my integrity
As if the color of my blood is purple and not red
As if I was good and you were bad
As if I could say that when I’m on my knees it’s not idolatry
As if all there is to happiness is life and liberty
As if I could shrug and say the truth is what you lie about
As if I was in and you were out
It’s raining in New York City and the trees are digging in
Their roots against the concrete; something’s got to give
Standing in the doorway the sky opening wide
Outside is the city but I got country inside
Writing country songs is easy; you don’t need a cheating heart
A gal who’s gone and left you, a dog that’s up and died
A truck that won’t turn over, a horse running wild
Writing country songs is easy when you’ve got country inside
There’s a dog outside the deli staring at the door
And I wonder who the someone is that he is waiting for
While I tended to my conscience this city stole my eyes
But everybody knows me in my country inside
The pigeons have abandoned the Armory roof
I wish I could go somewhere; the place that they’ve gone to
I’m wishing for horizons, endless lines of sight
I’m wishing I had more than just the country inside
Three more days of dust and glory to rid myself of this angel’s story
Before I’m thrust to the breaking point before I’m trusted to heal and anoint
Three more days of blood and thunder to sanctify the rape and plunder
To protect your firstborn son to find a target for your gun
The world has burned a thousand times and frozen over too
And I suspect our death won’t be by knife or wire
We’ll go down this time by friendly fire
Three more days to find a saviour to find a lover who can raise her
All you’ve cast before the swine all that is laid before these feet of mine
Three more days to turn the mountains into dust and crystal fountains
The blind to see the lame to dance fate cry out to circumstance
The world has burned a thousand times and frozen over too
And I suspect our death won’t be by knife or wire
We’ll go down this time by friendly fireAnd you say burn baby burn burn baby baby burn
Hell is on the local line
And you say burn baby burn burn baby baby burn
Nothing’s changed this time
Three more days to suffer treason at the hand of fickle reason
To suffer all that’s left to hate to be cursed by all degenerates
Three more days to die completely to all that will defeat you
To come unfettered to the well to be freed from the deadly spell
The world has burned a thousand times and frozen over too
And I suspect our death won’t be by knife or wire
We’ll go down this time by friendly fireAnd you say burn baby burn burn baby baby burn
But there’s water everywhere
And you say burn baby burn burn baby baby burn
But you’re consumed by the white whale
What did you come in living for what do you go out dying for
It’s not this
What did you start out praying for what do you end up craving more
It’s not this
Say you want to fly away
Say you want to burn all this
Say you want to go astray
You’re stuck in bliss
Love turns to hell when there’s nothing missing
It’s not this
There’s no one to talk to when everyone’s listening
It’s not this
One day when it all comes falling down
And you look up to see the higher ground
You’ll know you’ve never been there before
And your heaven is hell and your living won’t sell
You a ticket to get through that door
A dream turns to a nightmare when it keeps repeating
It’s not this
And even best gestures can’t be anything but fleeting
It’s not this
Don’t live for this, don’t die for this you that something better exists
It’s not this
Don’t pray for this, don’t crave for this your life is worth more than bliss
It’s not this
There’s a man at my door, says he belongs to Jesus
There’s a man at my door, says he has come to heal us
And everybody knows Holy Ghost Power
There’s a man at my door, says he has come collecting
There’s a man at my door, says who were you expecting
And everybody knows Holy Ghost Power
All the stones of the desert say
Where you gonna run to
Where you gonna run to
There’s a man at my door, says he belongs to Jesus
There’s a man at my door, says he has come to heal us
And everybody knows Holy Ghost Power
They say a few years before he did himself in
Vincent had a very nasty row with Gauguin
He went home and took a razor to his left ear
Wrapped it up and gave it as a present to his dear
To his surprise she did not like his gift much at all
She called the cops and had him packed off to L’Hospital
The ear was kept as evidence in an alcohol-filled jar
It disappeared into the hole of history’s black star
But what happened to Vincent’s ear
Was it buried six feet under, was it sold for an ice-cold beer
Did some junior detective steal it out of spite
Or did it end up drifting through the starry, starry night
They say Vincent was crazy and it might have been the truth
His style was unconventional his manner was uncouth
Failure was his standard and loss his destiny
He was not a darling of the petty bourgeoisie
He loved the sun and sunflowers he loved his cousin
He painted portraits of the entire family Roulin
In the yellow cafes at night he’'d daub away the time
But everybody thought him mad, his ear not worth a dime
He lived in an asylum, he wrote letters to Theo
And then one day he shot himself, it’s adios Van Gogh
If he were still alive and kicking today
Vincent’s ear would be up for auction on eBay