The Ogallala Draw

Cinematic Appalachian Blues, Industrial Dark Folk, Doom-Americana

+ Show full styles

V4.5

[Verse 1: The vocals enter, low, gravelly, and riding right on top of the kick drum. The imagery is tactile and heavy.]
A million years of water sleeping in the stone.
(In the stone)
We drove the iron pipe into the marrow of the bone.
The engine never settles, the diesel never sleeps,
We’re sucking out the memory that the limestone keeps.
(Limestone keeps)
Pull it to the surface, bleed the fossil dry,
Spit it on the dust and watch the water fry.
(Watch it fry)

[Chorus: The anvil strike joins the chains. The vocals push into a strained, dangerous growl. We utilize heavy, ritualistic repetition.]
Draw it up! Draw it up!
(Draw it up!)
Till the bucket hits the rock!
Till the pulley starts to lock!
We are drinking down the blood of the earth!
(Blood of the earth)
We are drinking down the blood!
What is the empty canyon worth?
When there’s nothing...
(Nothing...)
Nothing but the mud.

[Verse 2: The resonator guitar plays a jagged, syncopated riff that sounds like gears grinding. The vocals return to a menacing, rhythmic trudge.]
I thought the chest was bottomless, I gave it all away.
(All away)
I ran the heavy pump through the night and through the day.
I traded all the underground to keep the surface green,
Now I am just the ghost inside a rusted out machine.
(Rusted machine)
You ask me for a drop to cool the fever in your head,
But the water table dropped and the aquifer is dead.
(Dead... dead...)

[Chorus: Maximum industrial chaos. The guitar slide screeches violently against the strings. The vocals roar.]
Draw it up! Draw it up!
(Draw it up!)
Till the bucket hits the rock!
Till the pulley starts to lock!
We are drinking down the blood of the earth!
(Blood of the earth)
We are drinking down the blood!
What is the empty canyon worth?
When there’s nothing...
(Nothing...)
Nothing but the mud.

[Instrumental Breakdown: The vocals stop. Just the terrifying, mechanical rhythm of the kick drum and chains. The resonator guitar holds a single, dissonant, feeding-back note that mimics the screeching sound of a pump sucking nothing but air. This lasts for six grueling bars.]

[Outro: The guitar cuts out instantly. The anvil and chains stop. Only the slow, steady thud of the kick drum remains, getting slower and slower. The vocals drop to a dry, raspy whisper.]
Draw it up.
(Draw it up)
Nothing left.
(Nothing left)
Draw it up.
[The final kick drum hits. Silence.]

2617/7500

[Intro: A slow, deafening THUD of the sub-kick drum, followed by the metallic CRASH of iron chains being dropped. This repeats. THUD... CRASH. The resonator guitar enters, sliding down the neck with a filthy, distorted wail.] [Verse 1: The vocals enter, low, gravelly, and riding right on top of the kick drum. The imagery is tactile and heavy.] A million years of water sleeping in the stone. (In the stone) We drove the iron pipe into the marrow of the bone. The engine never settles, the diesel never sleeps, We’re sucking out the memory that the limestone keeps. (Limestone keeps) Pull it to the surface, bleed the fossil dry, Spit it on the dust and watch the water fry. (Watch it fry) [Chorus: The anvil strike joins the chains. The vocals push into a strained, dangerous growl. We utilize heavy, ritualistic repetition.] Draw it up! Draw it up! (Draw it up!) Till the bucket hits the rock! Till the pulley starts to lock! We are drinking down the blood of the earth! (Blood of the earth) We are drinking down the blood! What is the empty canyon worth? When there’s nothing... (Nothing...) Nothing but the mud. [Verse 2: The resonator guitar plays a jagged, syncopated riff that sounds like gears grinding. The vocals return to a menacing, rhythmic trudge.] I thought the chest was bottomless, I gave it all away. (All away) I ran the heavy pump through the night and through the day. I traded all the underground to keep the surface green, Now I am just the ghost inside a rusted out machine. (Rusted machine) You ask me for a drop to cool the fever in your head, But the water table dropped and the aquifer is dead. (Dead... dead...) [Chorus: Maximum industrial chaos. The guitar slide screeches violently against the strings. The vocals roar.] Draw it up! Draw it up! (Draw it up!) Till the bucket hits the rock! Till the pulley starts to lock! We are drinking down the blood of the earth! (Blood of the earth) We are drinking down the blood! What is the empty canyon worth? When there’s nothing... (Nothing...) Nothing but the mud. [Instrumental Breakdown: The vocals stop. Just the terrifying, mechanical rhythm of the kick drum and chains. The resonator guitar holds a single, dissonant, feeding-back note that mimics the screeching sound of a pump sucking nothing but air. This lasts for six grueling bars.] [Outro: The guitar cuts out instantly. The anvil and chains stop. Only the slow, steady thud of the kick drum remains, getting slower and slower. The vocals drop to a dry, raspy whisper.] Draw it up. (Draw it up) Nothing left. (Nothing left) Draw it up. [The final kick drum hits. Silence.]

0/500