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Alternate Histories Vol. I

by A Metropolitan Guide

/
1.
I am a hot-air balloonist taking folks around Thirty-five bucks a head, though forty during sunset I can take you where you want to be, anywhere you choose I can take you across the countryside; put a little color in the skyline I can sing with the bluebirds and fly with the doves Get you a little bit closer to the stars above But of all the things I'll find I can do Not a single one's getting me to you Well, I started out with a day job, straight nine to five But when the land grew cold and boring, well I turned to the sky You see there’s very little direction; time is ruled by sun and stars Not by school clocks and church bells or when people hit the bars I can fly over mountains, rivers, and plains Make every day different even if it’s the same But of all the things I'll find I can do Not a single one's getting me to you So whatya’ say my darling, a new life awaits A little bit of mystery is a whole lot better than chains We don’t have to travel long, or even wide or far Realize not knowing where you’re going is often better than where you are
2.
Reginald 03:24
All the kings of Western Europe and the presidential parades Reginald kicks his feet back and turns another page This place has been in the family for generations it seems But he'd survive to leave it all behind And there aren't that many things with the weight of someone else's dreams Everything's discounted and the profits razor thin He'd try about anything to get some folks in Biographies of those come and gone, and then some made up prose You don't have to buy, just take your time Reginald leans back in his chair in his dusty bookstore in a fading town square And he lights a lamp to see as he turns another page to read
3.
Tick tock watch the clock, eleven past ten Improvement commenced today, it matters not to him The leaves loosen, change their hue to orange, red, and gray The sun subsides, the clock rolls back, the night drifts away Devils in the courtyard, devils in the walls Devils in the stairway, devils in the halls The bronze bust oversees the garden in the trees That preaches right from wrong and who you ought to be The drunkard stumbles ‘round, bends the straw in his drink To each challenge posed ahead he turns around and shrinks Devils in the courtyard, devils in the walls Devils in the stairway, devils in the halls The princess watches all the drunkard’s antics with fear She may have gone for it some other day, some other year Not much in mind or in taste, but man he’s got the hair To try and break the drunkard’s curse when he really doesn’t care Devils in the courtyard, devils in the walls Devils in the stairway, devils in the halls
4.
It’s the call of the trumpet, and the bang of the drum It’s the charge of the horses, and the crackling of guns This might be your day, boys, but it might be our last The sound of the trumpet and the meadows echoing back Some of you will never see home again And the call of the trumpet is the exclamation before your end To make your sacrifice worth it, well, you might as well win And bring an end to this madness until it all starts over again It’s not the smoke in the fields, or the smell of the lead It’s not the wounds or the scars, or the sight of the dead It’s the sound of the trumpet, and the meadows echoing back I’ll probably never see home again And the call of the trumpet is the proclamation of my end They say the sacrifice is worth it, because in victory They’ll place you on the right side of history This might be our day, boys, but it might be our last And the call of the trumpet and the meadows echoing back.
5.
Brave 02:45
I hail from San Angelo, in the lone star state But I spent most of my childhood over in Spain Started workin’ on the craft from an early age Soon realized it was so much more than a game Mother always told you remember lock the backyard gate And if they’re swinging too early next time they’re gonna’ be late But you're not to blame Because the Mad Dog’s on the loose and it looks like he’s on his game By ’94 I had more Cys than Raphael Paintin’ corners while all them records fell Hawks and Falcons weren’t much what I liked to be but 28 mil found a lot of Brave in me You’re counting on the 93-fastball blazing through But then bam the change-up at 82 Groundin', poppin', swingin', lookin', you’ll find it’s all the same It’s like a sniper from sixty-five feet taking aim But you’re not to blame You’re just the hitter in the picture on his plaque in the Hall of Fame You can use deception to try and keep a man at bay But there’s something to be said for telling him what’s coming his way And gettin’ the grounder to second and the out all the same
6.
The only thing left on the side of the road is that low-hanging lantern light shining off like the flash of a pistol frozen in time we’re not moving our operation, no matter what they say we’ll just bask in the glow at the edge of the road and wait for day Set up our tents on the other side of this little rotting town and set out the main attraction along that gravel road we’re travelling down because folks they’re more likely to go the extra mile to see something new and dangerous just to leave in denial So please welcome the new attractions as the lifeblood of this town and be the first to celebrate as we smash our stakes into the ground while the others build up enterprise we’re just trying to survive Three towns ago Amos met a girl and said she was passing through he said “the sparks may fly with the butterflies, but son she ain’t for you” the Reverend said she’d come again if I work and pray “and if you do it right she’ll not just arrive, but son she’ll choose to stay” Three shows a day, on the weekends four, is how we do it now around here at least until the money dries and we’re up and out of here but for tonight the money’s good, so up and raise a glass because for one more night the curtains rise and our encore’s the best So please welcome the new attractions as the lifeblood of this town and be the first to celebrate as we smash our stakes into the ground while the others build up enterprise we’re just trying to survive The only thing left on the side of the road is that low-hanging lantern light illuminating the tents and dreams we built but leave behind we’re moving our operation to some more fertile spot in the hopes to find the chance to survive and the girl I’m lost without

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A selection of old songs that either never made it onto a record, or I felt could benefit from a fresh recording.

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released September 9, 2020

All songs written and performed by Brian Davis
Accordion and upright bass on "Call of the Trumpet" by Andrew Schwenk
Recorded 2016-2020 by Brian Davis at Little Plane Studios; Peoria, IL
© 2020 Little Plane Records / Brian J. N. Davis

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A Metropolitan Guide Peoria, Illinois

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