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lyrics
Dirt in your mouth, you wake up in a field,
sun beating down, it's getting kind of real,
you got no idea where you are,
a pack of matches from a roadside bar.
You ain't Steve Earle, you ain't Neil Young,
you ain't Bob Dylan, you ain't no one.
Blood on your shirt boy, you got blood on your jeans,
you don't know what you did ,but you know caused a scene,
your hands are cut up and your feet are too,
you stagger to the highway cause that's just what you do
when you ain't Steve Earle, you ain't Neil Young,
you ain't Bob Dylan, you ain't no one.
No one, no one's gonna write a book about you,
and no one, no one's gonna make a movie about you,
just another twisted idiot, another fuck up,
out of luck, out of money, and out of love.
You never could get along,
drink in your hand, head full of songs,
some say they're good, some say they're bad,
it doesn't fucking matter,
cause they're all you fucking have.
You ain't Steve Earle, you ain't Neil Young,
you ain't Bob Dylan, you ain't no one.
No one, no one's gonna write a book about you,
and no one, no one's gonna make a movie about you,
just another twisted idiot, another fuck up,
out of luck, out of money, and out of love.
You can't just sit down and write songs like these. You have to wrestle with the angel first. Tyrella has done that- the proof is the songs on Albedo. He is a master songwriter. Rodney DeCroo
Durham, NC singer-songwriter Skylar Gudasz makes intimate Americana delivered with dry wit and stunningly precise vocal acumen. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 14, 2020
This album speaks to the continuum of African diasporic culture that is central to the vibrant canon of Americana folk music. Bandcamp Album of the Day May 29, 2020