Name: The Deli Man Knows My Name by lord eronthal
Duration: 4 min 39 s
Description: A slow burning dark folk vignette: finger picked guitar and hushed upright bass trace rain streaked sidewalks while tense strings shimmer at the edge of dusk.

All guitars, vocals and other instruments were recorded. Bass and drums were played on a keyboard.

Chris Stapleton - Devil Always Made Me Think Twice

Hugo - 99 Problems Live

Tennessee
M. Shelton

[VERSE 1]
Oh, I have had, one of those days, where nothing goes right
I could use, a change of pace. At least for tonight
And you have a way, knowing just what to say

[CHORUS]
Play me those poor me, whiskey, drinking songs 
You know how to write
I'm aching for Nashville. crying-steel, sing-a-longs
To help me feel alright
You've always been there for me...Tennessee

[VERSE 2]
You must know, all of my hurt, pain and sorrow
You read my soul, every word. I know that you know
You're my saving grace, please save me I pray!

[CHORUS]
Play me those poor me, whiskey, drinking songs 
You know how to write
I'm aching for Nashville. crying-steel, sing-a-longs
To help me feel alright
You've always been there for me...Tennessee

[INSTRUMENTAL]

[CHORUS]
I love those poor me, whiskey, drinking songs 
You know how to write
I count on Nashville. crying-steel, sing-a-longs
To help me feel alright
There's one thing I guarantee
You'll always be there for me...Tennessee
Tennessee...Tennessee


Tennessee (male vocal)

Dr. Foss strips it down to the bone.
“Ain’t no pattern, ain’t no plan” is a bare country confession for the ones wandering without a map.

No chorus. No fix.
Just feeling. Just truth.
For anyone who ever looked up and thought:
This can’t be it… can it?

Ain’t No Pattern, Ain’t No Plan

I wrote this track because there is so much people do not know about me. They think I've had an easy life my whole life and that couldn't be further from the truth. I wish I could tell them where I've been, but they would never believe me.

I Wish

The pine trees whispered low last night,
Where the eagle took her flight,
Over hills so black, so deep and wide,
Where the spirits used to hide.
Gold was found and the word got loose,
Men came runnin’ with their news
Guns and picks, dreams in hand,
To tear the heart from Lakota land.

Oh Black Hills, cry your tears,
For the blood and the broken years.
What was sacred, now lies still—
Dreams got buried in them hills.
There’s gold in the ground, 
but the cost was steep,
And the mountains never sleep.
They remember every name,
Every soul that died in vain.

Buffalo ran, then disappeared,
Quiet plains now filled with fear.
The rivers ran dark with mud and grief,
While miners prayed to a god called “rich.”
Campfires burned where the stars should shine,
Whiskey, greed, and a pickaxe line.
They came for gold, but they dug up bones—
Left behind a land of stones.

Oh Black Hills, cry your tears,
For the blood and the broken years.
What was sacred, now lies still—
Dreams got buried in them hills.
There’s gold in the ground, 
but the cost was steep,
And the mountains never sleep.
They remember every name,
Every soul that died in vain.

Now the wind still moans through them trees,
Carryin’ ghosts on a mournin’ breeze.
You can hear ‘em sing if you listen right,
Under the stars in the pale moonlight.

Soldiers marched and promises broke,
Treaties turned to guns and smoke.
The Lakota cried, the miners cheered,
But heaven closed its eyes in fear.

Children played where the grass once grew,
Now there’s nothin’ but dust and dew.
Old elk trails turned into tracks,
Where wagon wheels won’t turn back.
Gold can blind a poor man’s soul,
Make a heaven feel ice cold.
But no rich man ever stayed—
Just took his shine and walked away.

Oh Black Hills, cry your tears,
For the blood and the broken years.
What was sacred, now lies still—
Dreams got buried in them hills.
You can take the gold, take the land,
But you’ll never own what you don’t understand.
The Black Hills ain’t forgot,
They remember all we lost.

Black Hills Doom

Well now, listen up, y'all! 🤠🥃 studiowhitebird done cooked up somethin' special, somethin' that'll hit ya right in the gut like a shot of good ol' rye.
We're talkin' 'bout 'Whiskey & Regret'! This ain't no campfire sing-along, bless your heart. This here's a slow-burnin' Country Ballad mixed with some real Outlaw Country and a whole lotta Blues-Rock. Got a voice on it, deep and rough, like it's been soaked in a barrel of the finest whiskey, with a proper Texan twang. You'll hear that mournful slide guitar cryin', and a beat that drags heavy, like boots through mud. It's dark, it's introspective, and it burns somethin' fierce.
This tune's for them nights when the past just won't stay buried, and them scars of yours sing louder than any debt. Truth is, there ain't no cure, just 'Whiskey & Regret.' Y'all best give it a listen, hear?

Na, wie geht's, Leute? 🤠🥃 studiowhitebird hat da was Besonderes auf die Beine gestellt, etwas, das euch direkt in den Magen trifft wie ein guter alter Whiskey - Schluck.
Wir reden hier von 'Whiskey & Regret'! Das ist kein Lagerfeuer-Gesang. Das hier ist eine langsam brennende Country-Ballade, gemischt mit echtem Outlaw Country und einer ganzen Menge Blues-Rock. Da ist eine Stimme drauf, tief und rau, als wäre sie in einem Fass vom feinsten Whiskey getränkt, mit einem ordentlichen texanischen Akzent. Ihr werdet diese klagende Slide-Gitarre weinen hören und einen Beat, der schwer schleppt, wie Stiefel durch Schlamm. Es ist düster, es ist introspektiv und es brennt gewaltig.
Dieser Song ist für die Nächte, in denen die Vergangenheit einfach nicht begraben bleiben will und eure Narben lauter singen als jede Schuld. Die Wahrheit ist, es gibt kein Heilmittel, nur 'Whiskey & Regret'. Ihr solltet euch das besser anhören, hört ihr?

#WhiskeyAndRegret #studiowhitebird #CountryBallad #OutlawCountry #BluesRock #MaleVocal #TexanTwang #NewMusic #DarkCountry #Introspective #Regretful #MournfulGuitar #DimlyLit #SaloonVibes #Bluesy #SlowBurn #NoHappyEnd #Storytelling #CountryBlues #SoundCloudArtist #YouTubeMusic #FacebookMusic #ArtistOnTheRise #MusicRelease #NewRelease

Whiskey & Regret

Maybe This Time

Brothers

A slow burning dark folk vignette: finger picked guitar and hushed upright bass trace rain streaked sidewalks while tense strings shimmer at the edge of dusk.

The Deli Man Knows My Name

lord eronthal

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