"Rock Tuesday"
Music by Roy Sason.
2.1.24 Tuesday Night
Played at Cactus9 Bar,
Jerusalem, ISR

Artist Page:
@roy-sason

Roy Sason (Rock Night) - 2.1.24 @Cactus9

(last time)
(last time)
(last time)

Who'da thought
The last time was our last time
We would laugh high
Just to past time
Up all night
Past our bedtime
We wouldn't know

I remember the last time
We caused such a discord
Just the few of us
Crescendo to an uproar
What did we discuss

Flaming whoever was
At the bottom of the board
Nothing new to us
Whining about those who couldn't score
We loved to fuss

We'd go from bawling our eyes out
To Ballin and iced out
So whaddaya know?

Who'da thought
The last time was our last time
We would laugh high
Just to past time
Up all night 
Past our bedtime
We wouldn't know
That when we had to go
That our last time was our last time
That our last time was our last time
Now there's nothing but echos (echos echos echos)

I remember the war crimes
We would do to each other online
And what it did to us
Where'd you get that image anyway
That picture made me cuss

We'd find new ways 
To poke fun at each other
It's what made us tough
Doing the most is reasonable
And doing your mom is a must

One day we'll rejoin our voice
Take wins and rejoice
So let's fucking go

Who'da thought
The last time was our last time
We would laugh high
Just to past time
Up all night 
Past our bedtime
We wouldn't know
That when we had to go
That our last time was our last time
That our last time was our last time
Now there's nothing but echos (echos echos echos)

We didn't know how that day
Would be the last time we play
It's funny how life
Pushes people away
Nothing on our journeys
Will ever stay the same
It's OK to go with the flow
We're mostly water anyway

Remember (in life)
Some foods are just inedible
Some words are just illegible
Some sources incredible
[brief pause]
Some things are just inevitable
And all we'll hear are echos

Who'da thought
The last time was our last time
We would laugh high
Just to past time
Up all night 
Past our bedtime
We wouldn't know
That when we had to go
That our last time was our last time
That our last time was our last time

Who'da thought
The last time was our last time
We would laugh high
Just to past time
Up all night 
Past our bedtime
We wouldn't know
That when we had to go
That our last time was our last time
That our last time was our last time
That our last time was our last time
Now there's nothing but echos (echos echos echos)

Past Times

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(Verse 1)
The screen door slammed on a Tuesday dawn, a hollow, final sound
With a half-packed bag and a hardened heart, and need to turn this town to ground
He kissed his mama on the cheek, her tears like morning dew
Said, "This dirt's for buryin' dreams in, and I've got livin' yet to do."
He left the fields of patient green for a concrete, sharpened maze
Traded his father's steady glance for the city's blinding blaze
Chasin' a wild wind he couldn't name, in a rattlin' Chevrolet
Leavin' the peace of a porch swing's sway for the debt he'd have to pay.

(Chorus)
Oh, the crooked road it calls the proud, with a liar's silver tongue
It trades your starlight for neon signs before your life's begun
You'll feel the dust kick up like dreams, a golden, fool's parade
'Til it settles in your soul as regret, a heavy, secret shade.

(Verse 2)
For a while, the world was whiskey-wet and easy to his touch
A pocket full of promises that didn't cost him much
He learned to talk in dollar signs, to smile with a closed door
The man he left behind for dead, ached down into his core
The neon lost its magic glow, just a cold and empty sign
Reflectin' back a stranger's eyes, in a cheap hotel for one
The harvest of his grand design was hollow, one by one
Just pockets full of lies he told, and the echo of a prayer
On a thin and lumpy mattress, in the still and lonely air.

(Chorus)
Oh, the crooked road it breaks the strong, on its ever-winding grade
It trades your starlight for neon signs, in the reckless bets you've made
You'll feel the dust kick up like fame, a devil's dancing plume
'Til it settles in your soul as shame, in a solitary room.

(Bridge)
And in the silence after sirens, came a whisper, soft and low
Not from a judge, but from a grace he'd forced so long ago
A voice upon the wind: "My son, you're weary from the load.
You ain't too far, you ain't too gone, to find this crooked road...
Leads back to me."

(Verse 3)
He returned not as the boy who left, but a weathered man instead
With valleys in his brow and peace in what the years had said
The shadow in his eyes now held a understanding deep
Of promises you cannot keep, and vows you gotta lose to keep.
He found his mama's Bible, with its worn and tender spine
The simple, solid faith he’d left, was waiting there, still thine.
He knelt down in the quiet dirt, the very same he'd spurned
And in that dust, a truth took root: the only fortune earned.

(Final Chorus)
Oh, the crooked road, it wound and turned, and brought him to his knees
It stripped him of his neon signs and gave him back the trees
The dust he kicked up settled now, right on his father's land
A little broken, but beloved, and held in Mercy's hand
He lost his way to find his name, traded chaos for the calm
And the good Lord, He just opened up, and gathered back His lamb.

(Outro)
The screen door opens soft, now.
A familiar, weathered sound.
He’s home.
He’s home.
The crooked road…
Has finally… straightened out.

Crooked Road Home

sunday mass funk

Bordel dans ma tête tourner
Défoncée encore défoncée
La nuit qui gueule ses secrets
Des éclats d’ombres dans mes veines

Tête à l’envers toujours
Fuir l’enfer sans détour
Tête à l’envers encore
Loin du venin du corps

J’me vautre dans des bras vides
Des anonymes pour l’hymne
Les murs vibrent dans le vide
Un cri perdu dans l’abîme

Courir courir dans la nuit
Tout s’efface tout se fuit

Tête à l’envers toujours
Fuir l’enfer sans détour
Tête à l’envers encore
Loin du venin du corps

Jusqu’au bout du chemin
Je dévore le venin
Le malin me regarde
Je crache et prends ma part

LA TÊTE À L'ENVERS

the day we met baby

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Demon Mafia Records | Composer of Worlds | Saxophone Wielder 



I am a Nigerian Swedish artist and label owner SKJ Records Sweden . I write all my songs and perform them . I was educated at Eton College , and the University of Pennsylvania where I fell in love with Music . My first record Ivory was big when it came out in Nigeria . I live and work in Stockholm .

I like nerdcore, rock and rhythm.
Born to log in, forced to lock in.
Kinda nice, kinda niche.

All my songs are available for free use and are not copyrighted.

Cactus9 is a Bar\Lounge\Mini Club, based in down town Jerusalem, ISRAEL.
A home for all those who listen to music as a way of life and do not settle for mediocrity.
Join us here on Soundcloud and stay connected with the down town underground music scene of Jerusalem.
PEACE.

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