WHISTLE IN SACKCLOTH

by GARRETT R. COOPER

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about

WHISTLE IN SACKCLOTH is a shift in sog writing from my previous releases and is intended to be played form end to end as a narrative of the story of a young boy becoming a murderous man, from his first kill to his last.

Written and Recorded on the 4th and 5th of January 2015 & mixed over the following week.

WHISTLE IN SACKCLOTH is intended to be the first of numerous releases for 2015, following six EPs released in 2014.

credits

released January 15, 2015

All songs written and recorded by Garrett R. Cooper in January 2015

Acoustic Guitar borrowed from Nathan Abbott

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license

all rights reserved

about

GARRETT R. COOPER Adelaide, Australia

Songs written and recorded as abruptly as possible.
Some material previously written for Bronze Chariot and Damned Men however never complete.

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Contact GARRETT R. COOPER

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Track Name: BIRD AND THE ROCK
YOUNG AND FULL FROM THE FIRST KILL, A THINK YOU WOULDN’T WANT TO THINK OF A SMALL BOY AT THE BACK OF THE YEAR, WITH A ROCK AND A BROKEN WING

WOUNDED FIRST ABOVE THE ALMOND TREES AND FELL SWIFTLY FROM THE SKY, TO THE EARTH AMONGST CRACK SHELLS AND DRY LEAVES IT CURLED
THE BOY WAITING FOR HIS MOTHER’S CALL, HE ACTED NEXT IN DAPPLED LIGHT. HE BROUGHT DOWN THE ROCK AND PUSHED IT SLOWLY THROUGH THE DIRT

YOUNG AND FULL FROM THE FIRST KILL, IN YOUTH AND DAPPLED LIGHT, THE SHADE FROM THE ALMOND TREES, THE BOY, THE BIRD AND THE ROCK

YOUNG AND FULL FROM THE FIRST KILL, A THING YOU WOULDN’T WANT TO THINK OF A SMALL BOY. IN THE SHADE OF THE ALMOND TREES, THE BOY, THE BIRD AND THE ROCK
Track Name: THE DRY HUNGER
NOW THAT THE FIRST HAD BEEN DONE AND DUSTED AND WHEN THAT DAY WAS DONE, HE’D REST IN HIS MOTHER’S NOOK.

WHEN BEFORE THERE WAS A CURIOSITY THERE WAS NOW A CAUSE AND A HUNGER FOR MORE THAT GREW FEVERISH, WE CAN ALL BE SURE. ON SOME OTHER DAYS WHEN THEY SURFACED BEFORE RAIN, HE’D LIT MATCHES TO BURN ANTS AND BEES.

THROUGH THE FOLLOWING YEARS HE GREW RESTLESS WITH ONLY A FEW CHANCES TO FEEL THE SAME. THE CAT FROM UP THE STREET AND THE KID THAT FELL IN THE POOL THAT LIVED NEXT DOOR.

IT HAD BEEN A WHILE SINCE THE BIRD, THE ALMOND TREES HAD BLOSSOMED STILL AND IN HIS BONES A DRY HUNGER, FOR THE NEXT THING TO KILL
Track Name: IN THE TUNNEL OF HIS VISION
HIS BLOOD RUNS HOT, HIS BLOOD RUNS COL, YES HIS BLOOD RUNS HOT AND COLD WHEN YOU’RE IN THE TUNNEL OF HIS VISION

HE’LL HOLD YOU DOWN, HE’LL HOLD YOU RIGHT THERE SO YOU CAN’T MOVE AND INCH. AND HE CAN TASTE, OH HE CAN TASTE EVERY BIT OF AIR COMING FROM YOUR BODY. HE CAN’T STOP, NO HE CAN’T STOP UNTIL YOU STOP MOVING WHEN YOU’RE IN THE TUNNEL OF HIS VISION

AND YOU SMELL, YOU SMELL JUST LIKE THE GROUND FROM WHEN HE DUG THE HOLE TO PUT YOUR WIFE. AND YES YOU SMELL, YOU SMELL JUST LIKE THE GROUND FROM WHEN HE DUG THE HOLE TO PUT YOUR DOG WHEN YOU’RE IN THE TUNNEL OF HIS VISION

HE CALLS YOUR NAME, HE GROANS IT SLOWLY, HIS VOICE IS LOW AND YOU CAN’T HELP BUT RUN AND CRAWL. HE’S TOWERING OVER, HE FEELS JUST LIKE A GOD AND HE NEEDS YOUR LAST BREATHE TO PUSH UP TO THE SKY, IN THE TUNNEL OF HIS VISION
Track Name: THE WEIGHT
HE’D NEARLY BEEN CAUGHT IN THE HEAT OF THE MOMENT, THE FIRST TIME SINCE THE BIRD, IT’D BEEN FOUND IN A BOX UNDER HIS BED, PUT THERE TO KEEP

HIS VISION HAD NARROWED TO A POINT AND SHARPENED WERE HIS SENSES, CHASING A MAN DOWN THROUGH THICKETS AND OVER FENCES. HE’D WOUND UP IN A PADDOCK IN THE DEAD OF THE NIGHT, SHIELDING HIS FACE RIGIDLY FROM PASSING CAR LIGHTS

WITH ONE FIST CLENCHED HE STOOD ANCHORED BY WHAT WAS ABOUT TO BE DONE. HELD BY THE WEIGHT OF THE MOMENT AND ANCHORED BY THE WEIGHT OF THE GUN
Track Name: WALKING MAN
OVER TIME THE BOY HAD TURNED TO MAN, FOR HIM THE DAYS COUNTED BY THE CLAIMED. TO HIM HE WAS THE END OF ALL AND WE ALL HIS PREY.

HIS YEARS MEASURED IN THE HOLES DUG AND THE BLOSSOM ON THE TREE. HE SLEPT ROUGH BAITED ONLY BY THE NEXT CHANCE, HEDGING HIS BETS HE IS THE WAKING MAN

THE DAYS WITHOUT THE HUNT WERE LONG, THE DAY OF THE BIRD LONG GONE AND THE FEVER KEPT CHURNING WITH AN ACHE IN HIS SIDE. WITH A HOLE WIDE OPEN. HE SLEPT ROUGH BAITED ONLY BY THE NEXT CHANCE, HEDGING HIS BETS HE IS THE WALKING MAN
Track Name: THE COLLARS HE KEEPS
THE LAST KILL MAY SEEM ONLY AIMLESS TO SOME BUT WHEN THE DAY WAS DONE, IT’S WHAT GOT HIM THROUGH

FROM THE PROUD TO THE POOR, THE RICH TO THE MEEK WHO CURLED UP TO LICK THEIR WOUNDS FROM CUTS THAT RAN DEEP.

FROM THE BIRDS AND THE PETS OF NEIGHBORS, THE COLLARS HE KEEPS. TO THE SONS OF OTHERS AND THE WIVES OF A FEW

THIS LAST KILL MAY SEEM ONLY AIMLESS TO SOME BUT WHEN THE SUN IS DOWN, IT’S WHAT GETS HIM THROUGH
Track Name: SACKCLOTH WHISTLE
HE PREPARED FOR THE BAD THING, BECOMING PART OF THE SCENE, TO STOP THE ACHE IN HIS SIDE BELOW THE RIBS AND ABOVE THE HIP. WHERE HE’D TAKE A ROCK AND A FEATHER TO KEEP, THUMPING HIS CHEST ALONG TO THE SOUND IN HIS HEAD

AND THE SOUND IN HIS HEAD, WITH IT HE WHISTLES AND HUMS. IT’S THE SONG OF THE BIRD FROM WHEN HIS STORY BEGUN

HE PREPARED FOR THE BAD THING AND IN THE YARD HE FELT ALONE, HE SNIFFED AT THE BRITTLE BREEZE AND THE NIGHT ENGULFED. HE LOWERED HIMSELF DOWN INTO THE HOLE THAT HE’D DUG WITH THE WANT TO GET LOW AND TO BE ONE WITH THE GROUND

AND THE SONG THAT HE WHISTLES, THE SOUND OF THE BIRD’S SQUEAK AS HE’D PUSHED THAT ROCK SLOWLY THROUGH ITS SMALL LITTLE HEAD

LIKE THE HOLE IN HIS SIDE, THIS HOLE NEEDED TO BE FILLED AND LIKE THE THINGS HE HAD BURIED, HE NOW NEEDED TO BE KILLED. THEN WITH ARMS SPREAD OUT WIDE, HE BREATHED OUT ALL OF HIS AIR, THE SCENE THEN CAME ALIVE AND HIS EYES GLAZED AND STARED

AND THE SOUND IN HIS HEAD, ALONG TO IT HE WHISTLED AND HUMMED, IT’S THE SONG OF THE BIRD FROM WHEN HIS STORY BEGUN.
THEN NOW DOWN IN THE HOLE WHERE HE’D PLACED SO MANY BEFORE, HE’D DONE THE VERY BAD THING, THE BIRD’S SONG IT’S SCORE

HE’D PREPARED FOR THE BAD THING BACK WHEN HE HEARD THE BIRD SING, TO STOP THE ACHE IN HIS SIDE AND BECOME PART OF THE SCENE
Track Name: THE BIRD'S SONG
NOT SO YOUNG AND FULL FROM THE LAST KILL, NOW ANCHORED IN THE GROUND AT THE BACK OF THE YARD IN THE SACKCLOTH WHISTLING

WHERE ONCE A BOY WAITING FOR HIS MOTHER’S CALL HE’D REMEMBERED THE DAPPLED LIGHT. WHERE HE’S BROUGHT DOWN THE ROCK AND PUSHED IT SLOWLY THROUGH THE DIRT.

NOT SO YOUNG AND FULL FROM THE LAST KILL ALONG WITH THE OTHERS IN THE GROUND, IN THE SACKCLOTH BELOW THE ALMOND TREES. WHERE FIRST THE BIRD AND THE ROCK, HIS TALE ENDED, THE BIRD’S SONG HIS SCORE