The Dead Rabbit: The Gardener

"Winds they fall like winter leaves, call me the master of the weeds, tending the garden once a week, shame some things we can never keep."

I had a dream about a vigilante who lived in the hills above Bok, he would sit and watch the world below his little perch each day.. pretty view he has... You might call him the Gardner, tending fields filled with wicked weeds. He's a bit vexed and disgusted with the filth of the world. You could say it was a slight reflection of me and my own feelings toward that small percentage of humanity that aims to lie and steal and cheat their way to some imaginary top of their own imaginary mountain. #Losangeles is a breeding ground for such filth, but like I said, it's a small percentage... and I like a good story more than anything. This character owns some land in the rolling hills and a nice stretch of dog kennel fences, where he keeps some rather wicked creatures that perhaps the world is better off without anyway. Believe it or not, he's really not that bad a guy. You could say he's just tying up some loose ends and doing what the courts probably should do, and eye for an eye kind of character.... with a keen eye for opportunities that could swing the pendulum to the side of the victim and who also has the financial means and power to right some very bad wrongs. Unfortunately songs can only have so many words.. for me, the visions of each song are so much more than just the fleeting words and connected letters inside the waves of music. A dilemma I wish to rectify with videos some day.

This "Ballad of the Dead Rabbit" track is one of the songs from the first session that was left in somewhat of an unfished state. Good enough to release as is for now, but still some check lists yet to check. Once the new black tower gets power this week, I will be revisiting this track. I have so much to say about it, but I'll stop here for now. Thanks for reading.

#diamondshadder #inspiration #deadrabbit #gardens #vigilante #evermore #lametal #theballadofthedeadrabbit

The Lake at Verna

Good afternoon lords and ladies.. Why oh why do we build.. do we carve.. do we #create I find myself on the edge of a Great Lake this morning, the Lake of Verna.. traversing an ancient wooden dock with crooked boards and creaky nails.. the waves are splashing up underneath my feet and I couldn’t be happier about it.. what a delightful storm.. the salt has me drenched and it’s dripping from my jaw line into the cracks of my already bloody smile.. I love the taste of it and the frantic sense of such a moment. Walking toward your dream despite everything around you trying desperately to grab your attention and distract you from the steps you have to take. I seem to live for such moments. I fear nothing as I’ve already lost everything... perhaps wits included. Of course it’s foolish to try things that seem foolish.. weary to try weary things that could fail miserably.. frightening to stray from the normal and crazy to follow strange notions and peculiar ideas.. I’m certain Edison and the Wright brothers felt odd walking the crooked blanks of there dreams. Fuck it right. Move with an open mind and stay clear of the close minded mentality of the fearful naysayers that would have your feet cemented and still, your heart tied up and your mind numbed and drugged away from wonder and hope. Find your own bridge and start walking... good luck. Walk the blanks of your own vessel. #diamondshadder #inspiration

The Crying Game: Lyrics

I thought I would post the lyrics to "The Crying Game". I can tend to get consumed in the patterns of words and rhymes and stories and that certainly happened here. I grew up a fan of greek mythology and believe it or not, I even made up my own alphabet as a kid and would transcribe songs to my own alphabet with an ink pen. Now if your not familiar with Greek mythology and the story of Niobe, I highly recommend it. Quite the lesson to be learned in the words from the past. The image below is from Tobias Verhaecht, it's called "The Punishment of Niobe." He was certainly a handsome devil and I don't think I would have changed a single brush stroke. I can only hope my rendition of the classic tale can add to the story. I'll talk more about the song in general down the road as I have lots of stories of my own that were taking place during the writing of this music and lyrical adventure. For now, enjoy this long tale as old as time.

-j evermore

The Crying Game by Diamonds Hadder

“In the tower so it’s said,

not even queens can save the dead,

nor sons and daughters safe from gods,

12 deathly arrows found their marks,

Add insult to a wicked brew

Surely Comes poison to the fates\

best bite the tongue of a cunning snake

Lest ye remember all to late.”

“Oh lucky me”, the empress bragged

Wore the finest silk they had

Mother of 12 it’s said she told the lads

a son to many, wished she never had

Whispers turned to angry plans

Festered hatred for the 12 now in godly hands

2 would plot to take them all

Deep Inside the seven walls

So.. this is the crying game

OH… of the ages

How dare she speak of smug little graces

Such words grew wings, to faraway places

And fell on ears great men did fear

No one would take back her words would become the spear

“how could she forget that they created this”

letos will and vengeance was swift,

her sons arrows never seemed to drift

all seven sons and daughters would die

nine days they stayed above the ground for the king to find

The great king of thebes, even wore his burial gown in death

Would never he see, his (6) daughters to wed

Or sons to become, heirs to the his throne

Left his wife to cry inside the palace garden all alone

So, this is the crying game.. Oh… of the ages

Bite the tongue that wants to tell

If ever does it come to yell

Hold the words under a spell

If ever you wish to keep your graces

Bite the tongue the serpent spits

Ever will it come to hiss

As old as the gardens Traces

… now the stones have many faces (still)

“So, this is the crying game… so this is the crying game.”

“My lovely daughter niobe, heavenly queen of Thebes

Dare you angered the makers of men, and the throwers of sadness

Winds whispers have found a hole in our sky

And travelled the realms you’ll never know of

There your insults festered in sisters womb

But only the fates could make the call.. my daughter

I am not the bringer of this judgment

But a ruler of the play and players above

So pay you have for the words you cast into the neither

Now.. ask if you must, for mercy can be only to swift for you.. my truest daughter of such sadness”

“Father, I know why…”

“Father… I’m sorry”

“Father… have mercy…”

“Father…”

wide canyons carved, around the cursed men

who still stand along the hillside bends

just statues now of crumbling stones

hollowed somewhere inside from their rotted bones

Niobe lay under the stars alone

The last to walk among the stones

her people turned into a into a ghostly sight

Bodies frozen for the gods simple delight

And she the last to turn to rock

somewhere above Mountain top

To shed an endless tear for men

Her weeping ghost, still seen now and then

“Mother of all, your wisdom felt

in flowers bloom and snowy melt

till winter comes again you’ll see

the stone is always there beneath

All that remains of a kingdom gone

her whining waters speak the dead

a last her river seems a gift to men

but some things are better left unsaid.”