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Bullet

from Aleatorium by The Old Smugglers

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  • Buy the Full Digital Album

  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    This long awaited second printing of The Old Smugglers' first full length album, Aleatorium, is here! Recorded in the middle of the woods by the light of a gas burning lamp and heated by the fire of a cast iron stove, Aleatorium is a 17 track masterpiece of undeserved confidence and ill-conceived notions of grandeur. This album features fan favorites such as 'Salad Days', 'You've Got the Shimmys', and 'We All Walk the Plank Alone'.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Aleatorium via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
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lyrics

Fired my last bullet into the belly of the night
It just kept on weeping, holding the stars real tight
There’s a foreign dog sniffing in our backyard again
Where I planted all my secrets taking o’er the patch

The porch light burned out, windows leak like a sieve
I’m wrapped in a blanket keeping an eye on things
There’s a group of laughing children playing tag in the dark
The wood smoke feels welcome as I drift in my thoughts

The church bell tolls softly like a beacon in the night
And I wash upon the shore, the chill dances with delight
I step out from my slumber to shake out last week’s fog
Stars and night help find the stride to carry me back home

Let’s have a drink to the best laid intentions
Line ‘em all up, just don’t trip and fall
Were you down by the river holding hands with a whisper
Tying ropes to regrets and watch ‘em sink like a stone

Raise one more glass for our fallen intentions
Kick ‘em to the curb let ‘em wash down the drain
Raise one more glass for our fallen intentions
Drink ‘em all down don’t let ‘em come back

Raise one more glass tonight!

credits

from Aleatorium, released November 13, 2015
Cap'n Thunder - lyrics, vocals, guitar, drums, percussion
Mr. December - backing vocals, guitar, bass, drums, percussion
The Old Smugglers - music

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The Old Smugglers Saint Paul, Minnesota

Scotch and coffee, smelling like smoke and grandpa, truckload of soup cans falling from the sky, Americana shanty sounds of regret and revelation.

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