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about

Welcome to the Bad Lands.

All songs written by John Goodblood
Album produced, mixed and mastered by John Goodblood & Ricardo Tapia.

Recorded at "Estudios 0618" and "Estudio La Cuerda".
Mastered at "Estudios Panda".


Martín Pineda: electric guitar.
Lucas Ozols: violin.
John Goodblood: vocals, electric guitar, banjo, and unknown instrument.
Iván Tapia: drums and percussion.
Maximiliano Turco: bass.
Santiago Ayala: keyboards, piano and hammond organ.
Martín Amenábar:hammond organ, rhodes organ and piano.


John Goodblood would like to thank:


Martin Pineda, Maximiliano Turco. Lucas Ozols. Ivan Tapia. Santiago Ayala. Martin Amenabar. Ricardo Tapia. Francisco Muschietti.Demián Rosales. Sebastian Fuks.Nico Scarcella. Estudio La Cuerda. Estudio 0618. Estudios Panda. Spike Spiagel. Alfredo Sarmiento Pinzon. Axel Mark Gotlieb. Coco Nasr. Tadeo Kvitka. Dylan Lerner. Rylan Whalen. Danny Lopez. Sebastian Wierzba. Luciana Biscay. Carlos Gallo. Jim Bean. Cristina & Nestor. Daniel. Jorge Lanata. Tim Burton. Julia D’Alotto.. Alberto D’Alotto. Jorge Cafrune. Roberto Arlt.Gabino Ezeiza. Gaston Bueno Lobo. Tom Waits. Jack White. Bob Dylan. Robert Johnson.Blind Willie McTell. Buenos Aires. New Orleans. Juana Rinaldi.

credits

released June 18, 2016

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John Goodblood Buenos Aires, Argentina

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Track Name: Argentina Cries
Walked out my door. I saw the moon shattered on the street.
The sky was high and so was I. I had jitters in my feet.
There's crazy children left and right picking at my eyes.
I'm bouncing round from wall to wall. Hear Argentina Cries.

The pusher told me "Boy, you tell those folks all about me.
I got no hope, but got the dope and a house right by the sea."
You treat me like a Lepper cause all you heard were lies.
I want you gone, the seventh son. Hear Argentina cries.

The dirty pocket politician takes another pill.
He's kissing babies with his tongue a life lived on the hill.
What a thrill.

I saw Evita and Guevara inside a cabaret.
They were fighting Maradona for the coke left on the tray.
The people in this circus all pray for my demise.
I'm walking out the backroom. Hear Argentina cries.

Falopa.

Until the day this parasite crawls aside and dies.
The worried people of the world hear Argentina cries.
Track Name: Death On Basin Street
Some make it throwing darts at the dirt pile.
Some make it digging up broken bones.
Some fake it selling gin at the crossed mile.
“To those taking all those things that he owns.”

God rest beneath the warmest of blankets.
And I wake on top of a bed of coal.
This house ain’t full of nothing but bandits.
Awaiting every drop of the soul.

Try to pick me whole, Vulture. Here or in Muscle Shoals.
Torture me until my bones are sculptures.
Walking so discreet in the alley where they all meet.
Death on Basin Street.

Saint Peter put up a fence to hide heaven.
Then left this dying city behind.
Here on the 9th but gone on the 7th.
An army full of eyes left so blind.

Keep dancing to that rhythm, good Soldier.
But stay hid until the moonlights begun.
The night comes with the freaks growing colder.
They’re bringing every knife and each gun.

All these criminals live behind masks of political deceiving.
Is there anything at all to believe in?
Or should I take a seat. Watch her pass see her hand as she greets.
Another death on Basin Street.
Track Name: Poisoned
Woman lost a bad bet. Rhyming on a silhouette.
Trialed like an 18th century black witch on a crosshead.
Get on with the lost son.
Right con to the wrong song.
Shots of desire.
Singing the man with his choir.

You do what you gotta do.
Your will to survive
Will keep your feet thumping
Kicking the vultures aside
Now there’s another man riding you not as well as I.
Try to keep a dirty thought from a dirtier mind.

But you can’t. You know why?
There’s a chance I might die
Leaving you B. Can’t break free from these chains.
Whatever you seek from my pain.

Tears on my shoulder like a desert gone dry.
Wish I could hold her. Girl was keeping me high.

The water’s poisoned in my paradise.
Lose my composure without my disguise.

I had a lot I could call my own.
But now it’s picking my bones.
If I could get up and find my legs, I’d leave you alone.
In the day time with the moonshine.
There’s a chain gang tied to my mind.
I’m unable to save.
Since I’m just one of those slaves.

The scars that we leave, they ain’t so easy to bind.
There’s a thread that you weave that made a seeing man blind.
Soon after, six women with some crooked ass minds.
They made me that after all I got the dirt in my kind.

So I pray to the Lord.
You won’t leave this sore.
You’ll be the last rose I pick
Cause your thorn cut to my blood spitting core.

Tears on my shoulder like a desert gone dry.
Wish I could hold her. Girl was keeping me high.
The water’s poisoned in my paradise.
Lose my composure without my disguise.
Track Name: Lafayette Bound
Barrels by the bay under a naked violet moon.
A mist so very grey after the wake that afternoon.
A dancing mademoiselle who wore her hair like a crown.
Broken out of hell now I'm Lafayette bound.

Hear a crow's prophetic cry over the square of La Rochelle.
He was singing to the sky like he was Blind Willie McTell.
Buon voyague ma charogne. Don't you make a sound
It's time for me to carry on towards Lafayette bound.

I saw a minstrel on a cross over the charcoal parade.
He's done woken from the moss to end this masquerade.
With the ashes from Babylon and the chase from hell's hound.
This road that I travel on is Lafayette bound.
Track Name: 13 Cents
Rug Burn Baby, Ashtray Honey.
Ephedrine Autumn. And Trailer Park Sunny.
Polluting in heels in the downtown residue.
Strutting the stuff after the gas mask pedicure
Land of the freaks been deformed by the saved
Champagne sewage leaks in the home of the brave
Garage Sale Molotov 13 Cents a pop.
Valet at hell’s parking lot same price different stop

“I’ll just have the fish as I hand back the menu”
Waiter Joe grabbed the dish then he jumped in the shark pool
“Will this one do?” He tapped his hand on the glass
“Side of Lobster heads too” then he sparked up the grass
When I got my plate I thought my food had caught fire.
All the time I was bait for the trailer park choir.
Fish hook as a neck tie, 13 cents a chop.
Whiskey of the cheap kind. Same price different stop

“Life here underground is where I have always been bound.”
Said Mary Jane crying beside the rain.
Some pocket knife Joe hear what she sayin’
Her ephedrine too had a wedding so blue
The Molotov child made a page in the news
If you’re thinking that I’ll bow down like a slave.
You better think twice. First you’ll see me in my grave.

Well now, Trash can Allison
Trying to get to Madison.
Looking for her Carolina
Ain’t no other way to find her.

If I was ever there, neither here or anywhere.
Or if I should even care all that I have had to bare
Honey for the fool, chasing sharks inside the pool
All the money in the sea lost its dye, still good to me.

Big salmon at the Pink House, 13 cents a bite.
Soup kitchen for the dead mouse. Same price open at night.

Life here underground is where I have always been bound
With mary jane crying beside the rain
Pocket Knife Joe hear what she sayin.
“It’s all I can do, sing them to you.
These words that are in the plainest of view.”
But if you think that I’ll bow down like a slave
You better think twice. First you’ll see me in my grave.
Track Name: Victor
Fue en la frontera de Laredo.
The year was 1995.
One man was colder than what most would strive.
“Vivo o muerto” better off alive.

Víctor se fue a la gran city.
Just like the movies in his head.
Well, what a pity. Ya no hay merced.
El Argentino was now left for dead.

En Dallas, todas las balas.
You can call me by my name.
Soy el Chicano Jesse James.

Mi dama, que me difama.
Ya no hay un home for me to stay.
I sit and wait for judgement day.

La guita es buena, el New Yorkino.
But not exactly how he planned.
He ran to Reno on his own demand.
Kissing his chica by the Jersey sand.

Now Paul Ray King and Jorge Chaves.
They got it better off than him
Uno esta muerto. Well ain’t that so grim?
The other one to lead a life of sin.

En Dallas, todas las balas.
You heard of all I ever did.
El cordobés Billy The Kid.
Mi dama, que me difama.
The chimes of hell ring like a bell.
But I still got my soul to sell.
Track Name: Roman Ash
Before you leave the room and this pile of sand.
Make sure that there's a broom for this man with just one hand.
Here comes the witch hunt. All the wood is burning.
Ain't it such a thrill, Hun? To see this world-a turning.

The Vice President is in jail.
So have the decadence pay the bail.
Only memories of old lies.
Hiding in the back of your shelf.
And you got no one to die with
Got no one to cry with but yourself.

The house you built now's ash.
Diamond gone to coal.
Million dollar bash
In a God forsaken hole.

Here's to the Romans.
Them with all their power.
All that they've stolen
with every passing hour.

Straight out the temple see the blood of the soil.
Rolling of the heads for the price of the oil.
I never said I was from Tennessee.
I had a good looking woman say some shit about me.

The deputy was found dead.
They put a bullet right through his head.
All these bones in your pathway.
Why don't you crawl back inside of your cell?
Cause they'll catch you any day now.
It's hell you gotta pay now.
'Mademoiselle.
Track Name: Crying Poet's Blues
What's a man to do with his right to live not what by others say?
Should he think he lost his eyesight by the Baton Rogue Bay?
I told them "Sorry, I got mine. And Honey, you got yours today."

It ain't the money or the spotlight. It ain't the shine on my shoe.
I was there on every damn night. You saw me stand not willing to lose.
If you don't think then you just might sing the crying poet's blues.

Why don't you tell me about the daytime? I've never seen it before.
I was missing on a lost night trying to dig a hole in the floor.
Should I bleed for all I've done right? It's you who comes to knock on my door.

Well, it's a dark and rainy evening. The congressman is pouring the booze.
His attire is so pleasing, but his eyes tell the tale of a bruise.
Well, what a filthy mess that he's in. Sing the crying poet's blues.