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  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    Our debut EP limited to 500 copies

    Includes unlimited streaming of Suicide Season via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
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    edition of 500 

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lyrics

Railway Song.

Back in nineteen hundred and three I worked the Blacktown refinery,
Never saw the light of day, thought I’d sweat my life away.
Then by chance fate played its hand, I got drunk and I killed a man,
And though it was an accident I took off quickly for the west.
I hid myself in a railway camp, building the Great Overland,
A hammer man in a railway gang, driving steel with my bare hands.
I thought pouring steel was tough, but nothing was harder than layin’ the stuff,
It chewed up stronger men than I- we left them buried by the line.

Oh boys- lift that hammer, strike it down!
Oh boys- drive that spike into the ground!
Oh boys- drop another sleeper down
And oh yeah- we’re laying steel into your town.

Twelve long hours a day we’d work, six days a week, Sundays off for Church,
But I don’t see no point in prayin’, God don’t live here anyway.
We’d work in driving rain and hail, from dawn until the daylight failed,
And stagger back to camp at night to sleep like the dead by the fireside.

Oh boys- lift that hammer, strike it down!
Oh boys- drive that spike into the ground!
Oh boys- drop another sleeper down
And oh yeah- we’re laying steel into your town.

I guess you could say I’m proud, for opening up this great land of ours,
And along the line the towns they grew, as people came trade improved.
So ladies, when you buy that dress, and gents that cravat and matching vest,
Spare a thought for the boys like me whose sweat brought to you your finery.

Oh boys- lift that hammer, strike it down!
Oh boys- drive that spike into the ground!
Oh boys- drop another sleeper down
And oh yeah- we’re laying steel into your town.

Features the Blacktown RSL Choir.

credits

from Suicide Season, track released July 11, 2012

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Dave Wright & The Midnight Electric Melbourne, Australia

Singer/songwriter/bandleader Dave Wright is after one thing: A perfect 4-minute pop song.
When he puts pen to paper and pick to guitar strings, however, the Melburnian-by-way-of-Colac knocks out epics and ravers and boozers about girls, cars, Australia, mariticide, Diggers, truckers, sadness, sickness, drunks, heartbroken mothers, angry fathers, desperate sons … and death. Lots of death. ... more

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