Available for download on iTunes and streaming on Spotify.
Shot in the Dogpatch neighborhood of San Francisco. Filmed and Edited by West Askew. "Howl," written and composed by Grace Askew. 'Grace Askew & The Black Market Goods' available on iTunes and CDbaby.com
Lyrics:
I kicked a cowboy offa my floor today
Said "you can't stay here no more, you're drivin me insane"
So I helped him pack his bags and took the very last swig of his whiskey
In tattered clothes, with patches and holes, he left smokin like a chimney
The shake in his hands made the mornings' demands crumble
So all he could do was write songs on my stoop and stumble
Well, he wishes he were dead, wants to rest his head six feet below and soon
Just like Townes, his body'll shut down, underneath a fiery moon
ooh, cowboy ramble on now
ooh, you've worn your welcomedown
ooh, cowboy, ramble on now, now, now, now
You've worn you're welcome down...
To the ground
he took a greyhound bus from a dead west texas town
said he didn't trust the dirt and the dust on the ground
But, he taught me the blues and gave me some shoes made in New Mexico
told me stories of the ramblin glories from livin out on the road
But I'm a rambler myself and I've gambled away my heart
And I don't see the man, I see the blood on his hands, and he's fallen hard
Well, he needs to go home, to his mama, back in Abilene
He needs to know I can't save him from his drama, no, no not me, no not me
ooh, cowboy ramble on now
ooh, you've worn your welcome down
ooh, cowboy, ramble on now, now, now, now
You've worn you're welcome down...
To the ground
You gotta ramble, ramble on now
Shot in the Dogpatch neighborhood of San Francisco. Filmed and Edited by West Askew. "Howl," written and composed by Grace Askew. 'Grace Askew & The Black Market Goods' available on iTunes and CDbaby.com
Lyrics:
I kicked a cowboy offa my floor today
Said "you can't stay here no more, you're drivin me insane"
So I helped him pack his bags and took the very last swig of his whiskey
In tattered clothes, with patches and holes, he left smokin like a chimney
The shake in his hands made the mornings' demands crumble
So all he could do was write songs on my stoop and stumble
Well, he wishes he were dead, wants to rest his head six feet below and soon
Just like Townes, his body'll shut down, underneath a fiery moon
ooh, cowboy ramble on now
ooh, you've worn your welcomedown
ooh, cowboy, ramble on now, now, now, now
You've worn you're welcome down...
To the ground
he took a greyhound bus from a dead west texas town
said he didn't trust the dirt and the dust on the ground
But, he taught me the blues and gave me some shoes made in New Mexico
told me stories of the ramblin glories from livin out on the road
But I'm a rambler myself and I've gambled away my heart
And I don't see the man, I see the blood on his hands, and he's fallen hard
Well, he needs to go home, to his mama, back in Abilene
He needs to know I can't save him from his drama, no, no not me, no not me
ooh, cowboy ramble on now
ooh, you've worn your welcome down
ooh, cowboy, ramble on now, now, now, now
You've worn you're welcome down...
To the ground
You gotta ramble, ramble on now
