Here in my sitting room
I look past Chester field
Beyond the orchid bloom
just behind the wishing well
There lies my mother's grave
a cross stands made of stone
When I turn out my lights
she creeps into my home
And the porch light breaks
and the doors swings back
and she pulls me to her side
And I push away
from her flesh decayed she screams
I didn't die, I didn't die, I didn't die
I didn't die, I didn't die, I didn't die
Here in the psycho ward
I don't know what is real
The cold asylum walls
or the shrieks from Chester field
When I was a young boy
I heard my mother scream
I swung back the bedroom door
where she hung by apron strings
Now her head floats 'round
and she's haunting me
with forks stuck in her eyes
And she drags me down
to the soul pit ground, she screams
I didn't die, I didn't die, I didn't die
I didn't die, I didn't die, I didn't die
A true hidden treasure of a song writer. This gent has been capturing songs in demo form on old tape recorders since the 80s. . . and he's still capturing his magic sounds in his secret basement. Damien Youth
Blood Relative is Publicist's latest post-punk salvo from the Forgive Yourself LP, steered by Zachary Lipez's unnerving baritone. Bandcamp New & Notable Dec 17, 2015