Suicide Machine (Tim Baltes, Alex Wilson, Dan O Stoffels) Alex Wilson - acous. guitars, vocals / Tim Baltes - drums / Barrett Tasky - standup bass / Liv Mueller - backing vocals / Anna Jo - banjo
lyrics
From the time I, was a young boy, when I heard that whistle blow
I was waiting, until the time that I was grown
I was sitting, at the depot, Union Pacific line
Clockin’ in now, to leave another town behind
Take a little, sip of whiskey, to ease my troubled mind
And some poor soul, he is running out of time
I can’t help you with your family, or to say all your goodbyes
I deliver when you step out on the ties
In a moment, it’s all over, the end of your today
And two days from tomorrow you’ll be lying in your grave
Run away, run away, run away from me
Run away, run away from the suicide machine
See my daddy in my own face, wrinkled, weathered, torn
I am broken until the time that I’m reborn
Every Sunday beg the father, please forgive me for my sins
Still I wonder, will heaven let me in?
If you want to meet your maker now this train won’t stop for you
Put my head down, do my part to help you see this through
I oblige them in their suffering, running at full speed
Roll you like a rag doll with my suicide machine
All aboard, all aboard the suicide machine
A 1952 motel taken over by musicians in 2007 for the purpose of creating and hosting collaborative songwriting events, The Holiday Music Motel is the world's only motel with its own internet radio station that plays 100% self-generated content 24/7.
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