Demons

by Kurt Bielema

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Hey DEMONS! Demos! Details!

From now until SvenStock on August 5th or so, all sales of this album will be donated to Imerman Angels, a cancer support organization.

www.facebook.com/ImermanAngels/

credits

released August 2, 2017

Written, performed, and recorded by Kurt Bielema
Mastered by Puppets

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Kurt Bielema Urbana, Illinois

... Kurt’s blend of indie, pop, and rock music draws from folk traditions over the past 50 years. Often fingerpicking with an infectious rhythm and sensitive melodies, Bielema’s strength is sincerity that never verges on the saccharine. Straightforward yet poetic, the songs have a very quaint and charming quality to them—they don’t feel too huge, but they touch on timeless emotions and ideas. ... more

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Track Name: Devils Raising Saints
I love everything you do, how you tighten every screw,
how the roads all lead back you, and when you call my name, rhyme and reason sustain.

I won’t ever hold your hand, until you call me your man.
I won’t let you see my face, my eyes are red and aged, I said I’m feeling okay.

We’re devils raising saints.

And when talking's not enough, we start to fighting and acting tough.
I’m always chasing my tail, and picking up the nails that fall out your mouth.

If life is change like the leaves, my love is growing, like a weed.
I’m not much for show than tell, would rather raise some hell, watch me shoot out all the lights...

We’re devils raising saints.

Things I know about trust, it’s no particular construct,
it’s falling backwards blindly, it’s running in the dark, it’s the fire before the spark.

We’re devils raising saints.
Track Name: Half Life
Little engine, little heartbeat, keep your head up, nothing to fear.
Pull the brake fast, I spotted trouble. On the tracks there lay someone.
And sparks fly, the shrieking metal. In the darkness, startles the deer.
Now they’re running, silhouettes in train lights. I watch each one disappear.

Half Life ... is making up the end prize.
Half Life ... is writing down the way.
Even tho you see it, doesn’t mean you’ll ever be it,
Doesn’t mean it’s gonna happen at all.

Some bodies living, some bodies dying, and who’s crying, the Engineer.
On the tracks lay, in clear separation, the half of life that’s better left unsaid.

Half Life ... is kickin out the streetlight
Half Life ... is getting lost in a fog
Even tho you see it, doesn’t mean you’ll ever be it,
Doesn’t mean it’s gonna happen at all.

Mister trainman, my long lost brother.
Why’d you end it, my long last breathe?
Can’t you see me just how far I’ve fallen?
He looked at me and this is what he said...

Half Life .. is making it to last call.
Half Life ... is dragging round these chains.
Even tho you see it, doesn’t mean you’ll ever be it,
Doesn’t mean it’s gonna happen at all.

Little engine, little heartbeat, keep your head up, nothing to fear.
Track Name: Lovenone
I’m not afraid of your father, he yells real loud and shines him armor.
I have to beg for what I borrow, and I must run to catch my breath.

I have a friend in your mother, she calls me brave just like your father.
What if I fail, what if it’s harder? What if this life, scares me to death?

It’s an old time rhyme, about kids who learned to climb.
It’s an old time rhyme, I say to you.

How it’s so fragile, this love is, and breaks when words reach another.
My brow is furrowed, my mind is haunted, and I’m breaking down for you.

The dark clouds closing in, looming low and ominous, on the wind.
The darkness pouring in, when I cut the letters into my skin.

I’ll go and find you in the morning, with all your things still in my car.
When lightning flashes, I start counting, till thunder rolls from afar.
The thunder rolls from afar...
Track Name: Tiny Tiger
Nicotine, American dream. Alcohol & caffeine.
This way to be free, well it’s killing me.

Dry my eyes, American pie. Applesauce & white lies.
Got a monkey on my back, it’s sewn onto my jacket.

See the world, American Girl. Don’t care what y’all heard.

Got a tiger up my sleeve, that’s waiting to be seen.
Got a tiger up my sleeve, that’s ready to be seen.
Tiny tiger up my sleeve.

Take the sky on the 4th of July, & I hate the right!
Their way to be free, well it’s killing me.

Still we hide the great divide; tables turn & men lie.

Got a tiger up my sleeve, that’s waiting to be seen.
Got a tiger up my sleeve, that’s ready to be seen.
Tiny tiger, up my sleeve.
Tiny tiger, up my sleeve.
Silent tiger, up my sleeve.

Nicotine, American dream. Alcohol & caffeine.
This way to be free, well it’s killing me.