by Blue Canary

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    High quality cassette tape in printed O-card sleeve with custom illustration. Only 100 copies available.

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released August 13, 2016

All songs written by Harry Burgess and performed by Blue Canary, recorded at Church Road Recording Studios.



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Blue Canary Southampton, UK


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Track Name: Carolina
It’s 70', I’m fine.
It’s all starting to implode.

Cigarette in mouth, burnt rubber on the road,
A’rollin’ on a damascene highway; I-95,
Through upper Appalachia, with a winter wren.

Evanescent a child,
Carolina back then;

'I was dumb when I was younger,
I needed everybody for comfort,
to see in me a sleeping sun and a contour'


Creeping ennui,
My median year in the stars.
Caught a peach I’d seen on House of Cards.

Each annum yields,
Elapses in a blink and life’s a séance as you enter the backwards view;
You whisper to things passed,
You’ll never be as you were

In MD we stopped for gas and came upon the NSA;
'I wonder if they read my brain in Carolina today'
Track Name: Someday
Someday one of us is going to die and one of us is going to be old.
A soul that was fallen for will be bereft,
It scares me to death, so I guess it's going to have to be me.

By night I ride the tide's malaise, supine,
Defiance is vain,
Embraced, my mind, it wanes,
Here's why all that we want is to get away

All sick,
Steering a brakeless car,
Yield to the ruinous star, swing on my damocles sword.
How could I not get loaded some when there are tusks in the room
and they're piercing the womb?
We'll burn by air or fatter men first - hooray!

At night I dive in waves - defanged, dethroned, depraved.
Invites declined -
with me, I guess, nobody wants to get wet.

9/99; 8 on the 9th – I always fall short.
Louisiana - get the Sun in June,
Booze drive thrus – no straw loophole.
Keep hard, sweetheart retard, half decrepit child.

Hell is a process named the threat of success
and it smells like wet concrete spread on promised land.
Soda-sweet sleight of hand as our souls are swept,
piffling pets.

Dare you reap the soil that splayed me?
Baby, boil.
You’re colder than you were
and older than you know.
Track Name: Millennialism
'Poor' and 'white' and 'boy' and languid art.
Same old fucking mess I make in a false start,
Now I'm going to say something bold, something you will hear;
These dead seas are lined with plains of pearls
The post-masturbatory guilt of the first world cannot swim to save ourselves,
Now among receding shorelines.
And the cries are sparse, aside ironic, self obsessed,
That bachelor's degree is going to choke you
When I shove it down your neck as we drown
Track Name: Scituate
Broken idols? counteract!
Worse - screaming doctor: “CALL THE NIGHT NURSE!”
(at least, he SAYS he is an MD…)
'Pediatric oncology’…’metastasis of existence’…ok, sure…
I’ll lay back and think of summer, the panacea
oh, the water's shimmering.
Shore at Scituate’s alive.

Architect of bad denouement,
False annulment every two months
When I drink, well, like…a catholic
Then my mouth gets geographic
A’searing parapet and ridge in my now furrowed tongue is ale.

I know I ramble, my dearest - it’s highbrow.
Umbra swells, hits me, swallows me down.
ain't been here in a while, melancholic.
Nothing will be the same from now, right?
Wish I had killed a couple more butterflies.
put me in a pillow case with kitty, you’re a good friend.
I’m losing my mind.

Note to self - next time I walk upon the bay, think 'twice I came here, in my day, in Summer'

You used to love me.
Nowadays you can’t stand me.
So, what to do with life?
Track Name: Braintree
I've palmed youth,
Not yet used,
May do soon