Gypsy Milk EP

by Doolittle and the Raiders

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03:28
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02:46
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about

Recorded in July 2010 in Newmarket, NH

credits

released August 2, 2010

M. HESSLEIN-vocals, drum machine, synthesizer, keyboard, guitar

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about

Doolittle and the Raiders Brooklyn, New York

LOUNGE / SOUL / FOLK / POP / ROCKEE ROLLEE

Mickey Doolittle is the alias of Michael A. Hesslein.

Other music to listen to:
mailthehorse.com
doolittlefamily.bandcamp.com

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Track Name: Gypsy Milk
It might be the whiskey, mama—
how it follows me around all the time—
follows me around and tells me
all the ways I can lose.
And you never asked what I do or did or
have not done, but I know it’s comin’, and
when it does I’m gonna run away.

And you always sang to the Catholic girls, ‘cos
they never had a mother in the sky, just a daddy
who don’t drink, but still knocks them down.
And you don’t want them to crawl, but you won’t let them run
‘cos running won’t get them anywhere—
just a little sip of your gypsy milk will suffice.

All the suitcases are packed for heaven’s gates,
all the typwriters are prayin’ for a ride downtown.
And I hate to talk about it more, but I
need some love for sure—
just give me a little sip of your gypsy milk tonight.

And you always sang to the Catholic girls, ‘cos
they never had a mother in the sky, just a daddy
who don’t drink, but still knocks them down.
And you don’t want them to crawl, but you won’t let them run
‘cos running won’t get them anywhere—
just a little sip of your gypsy milk will suffice.
Track Name: Bleeding Down the Boulevard
I don’t want to leave a history to tell
There are jobs we can do that won’t get written down

I see the chains are comin’—loudly too—
and the devil’s runnin’ to catch me a use me, oh
God I get so tired, I just can’t keep up,
should I give her it all just to shut her up?

What’s wrong, is it the way I always interupt?
I want to give up in all the ways they can’t understand

So won’t you send me loving postcards from old L.A.?
There’s nothing like time to deepen the pain—
I know you’re bleeding down the boulevard cryin’—
should I call you a cab or let you die?
I see the chains are comin’—loudly too—
and the devil’s runnin’ to catch me a use me, oh
God I get so tired, I just can’t keep up,
should I give her it all just to shut her up?
Track Name: Hard to Make Them Pay
My child, I meant for you the best,
those tears that you cry, I’d hoped they would not last forever
‘cos you’re pretty as can be, and you could dance too—
Oh, you.

For what it’s worth, your darling face was all I dreamt about
when I thought of the human race
‘til I saw you wake up with a pimp at a Super 8, and I cried—
you know I cried, ‘cos

It’s hard.
It’s hard to live
like a songbird when you’re a lonely slut
and every night, it’s hard—
hard to make them pay. (Give her some money)

You’re a great con, little girl—
you know it makes me laugh a little,
but I must confess, you could’ve done so much better.
All my kids are my work, and my work alone—
I made you beautiful so you’d never walk alone, and

It’s hard.
It’s hard to live
like a songbird when you’re a lonely slut
and every night, it’s hard—
hard to make them pay. (Give her some money)

Do you have any other skills besides reverse cowgirl my dear?
Should I knock your head off? Should I just keep quiet
and wait? Oh…

It’s a crying shame because I love you so much,
and now you’re like the rest of the ones who chose
their totem pole to reach up to and now you’ve gotta pay—

and It’s hard.
It’s hard to live
like a songbird when you’re a lonely slut
and every night, it’s hard—
hard to make them pay. (Give her some money)
Track Name: Her Friends
Let her go, she won’t tell anyone—
it’s not written down.

Her friends don’t want to know or notice you, or
what you say when you’re in her room—
they’re all whores too and they don’t care to waste any time
fighting over what failed men do.

So don’t feel too bad,
your wife is safe and sound.
But deep down, she knows how to pry it out of you
when your kids aren’t around.

Her friends don’t want to know or notice you, or
what you say when you’re in your room—
they’re all whores too and they don’t care to waste any time
fighting over what failed men do.

Late at night when we all drink alone
we all feel our hearts get weaker.

Late at night when we all drink alone
we all feel our hearts get weaker.
Track Name: Through the Lonely Dale
Why do faces of love smile when I can’t ever go to bed?
Sadness and fever flood the halls
of every house that type of fear lives in

Take up my hammer, Mrs. George.
I know you like the way that these halls shine.
Put up your silver pictures of the Lord—
Into the bosom of age I fall, forever tired.