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The Russian Artist Factory - EP

by Peter Charles Willis

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1.
We used to sing like a burning schoolhouse on Victoria Day All the kids would gather ‘round and scream at it and say: “There goes my Grade 3 teacher…” And now I sit here at the Stampede grounds and watch horses go ‘round And my money go down and I wonder “What do I remember from my Grade 3 teacher?” You bang two sticks and you call it music You take a pipe cleaner and you learn how to use it. You dip your hands in glue, watch it dry fast then pull it off… I used to dream like a cat without claws who stared all day at the living room walls Sleep with an eye locked firm on the door. Leave it a-jar and I’m running for more. I used to fight with myself all night. To and fro with the mistletoe. It was only my first dance but should I have kissed her? You bang two sticks and you call it music You take a pipe cleaner and you learn how to use it. You dip your hands in glue, watch it dry fast then pull it off… What was this view? Besides a playground that only older kids knew? I used to cry like the island ferry creaks coming into dock any day of any week. Now I burn like a Catherine Wheel on Victoria Day, what would my teacher say? You bang two sticks and you call it music You take a pipe cleaner and you learn how to use it. You dip your hands in glue, watch it dry fast then pull it off…
2.
Keep curiosity alive. Keep everything under control. It’s supposed to be better that way. Keep your finger on this change. Keep your rifle for the range. This is gonna be a long shot, my friend. Stay where you are. You never had to run so far. It’s a top-heavy fall, but you made the call. Stay where you are. Your door’s unlocked and wide. Your heart’s a fireside… The race is not yet won. Your shoelace remains undone. This is gonna be a long shot, my friend. Stay where you are. You never had to run so far. It’s a top-heavy fall, but you made the call. Stay where you are. Counting friends upon one hand. Leaving laughter in demand. It’s the wrong friend to leave waiting. Turn the light on late at night. Rest your hand on what is right. She’s gonna be a long shot, my friend. Stay where you are. There’s no need to run that far. It’s a top-heavy fall, but you made the call. Stay where you are.
3.
It took us a little while to figure it out That the piano stood in an apartment block Neither one of us gave a damn about But I still remember. How could I forget? The first time you told your Frank Sinatra story I’ve always been a bleeding heart But it’s a shame we had to part. You packed your bags. You washed your hair. You barreled your way down four flights of stairs. You lived pretty high up but the view from the top wasn’t all that it should be. I was always too proud to say I needed help last time around So I’m telling you now. Help is wanted now. You packed your bags. You washed your hair. You barreled your way down four flights of stairs. You lived pretty high up but the view from the top wasn’t all that it should be. I feel it all fall apart. Or maybe start. I feel it all caving it. Or maybe begin. You rode your bike to the pub like a horse into battle. A defender of all that was right and good, a defender of a bottle. No story too short no story too long each story ripe for a yarn. You spin it and spin it and spin it around ‘til it doesn’t know where it belongs… You packed your bags. You washed your hair. You barreled your way down four flights of stairs. You lived pretty high up but the view from the top wasn’t all that it should be. I feel it all fall apart. Or maybe start. I feel it all caving in. Or maybe begin. You combed your hair. Or maybe not. I had the only clothes on that fashion forgot. You hammered that bass like a power tool. I sat surrounded by 88 sentimental fools. I feel it all fall apart. Or maybe start. I feel it all caving in. Or maybe begin. It took a little while for us to figure it out. That the piano stood in an apartment block Neither one of us gave a damn about.
4.
The pitcher’s sign is a wink and a cough Try to throw me out at second with the hit-and-run called off But I’ve been reading your signs now for a living Better throw out your best stuff ‘cause the bullpen phone is ringing. I know you think that I like to swing high I got trouble with your change-up and the lights get in my eyes So go ahead baby, throw me your curve Full-count on me, have you got the nerve? I don’t wanna launch a sacrifice fly against you. I don’t wanna lay down a sacrifice bunt just to beat you. Baby, if I have to face your pitching all alone, You can practice your suicide squeeze, Guarding the plate I’m comin’ in at the knees Your infield shift is really huggin’ the line But I’m an opposite field guy time after time. I know you’re wild and your closer is weak But I’m not steppin’ in the bucket if it hasn’t got a leak So get your game on don’t get your signals confused If I’m goin’ in swingin’ I can’t get bruised I don’t wanna launch a sacrifice fly against you. I don’t wanna lay down a sacrifice bunt just to beat you. Baby, if I have to face your pitching all alone, I’m gonna bring ‘em all home.

about

With inspiration from the likes of Ben Folds, Hawksley Workman and Blue Rodeo - this teaser EP was released as an almost entirely "off the floor" record - capturing The Russian Artist Factory completely.

credits

released November 2, 2019

Peter Charles Willis - Lead Vocals, Keys, Rhythm Guitar
Damien Van Johnson - Lead Guitars, Rhythm Guitar, Backing Vocal
Keith McTaggart - Bass, Backing Vocal
Jay Hughes - Percussion

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Peter Charles Willis Calgary, Alberta

I, too, am a work in progress.
Thank you for listening.

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