Red Mark

by Anthony Ruptak

Red Mark cover art
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1.
04:17
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credits

released 14 December 2012
Anthony Ruptak - Lyrics and Music
Baccetti Music Productions and Brent Baccetti - Recording, Sound Engineering, Mixing
Psyonic Labs - Mastering

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tags: folk americana indie Denver

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about

Born and raised in the small town of Bailey, Colorado, and a self taught musician, Anthony Ruptak has recently made his ... more emergence in the folk scene in Denver.

A poetic conveyor of raw emotion wrapped in melodies ranging from chaotically passionate to melancholy and heart-wrenching, he writes with equal shares of heart and mind. Ruptak is definitely somebody worth keeping an eye on in 2012. less

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Track Name: Red Mark
There is a notice on the door
Which condescends in legal form
That you've got one more chance to pay
or we will send you on your way
without a prayer and draw a red mark by your name.

The bottles confiscate the floor
That old salvation of the poor
The wheel grinds with solid pace and draws on us
a laughing face
before the exhibition of the judge's crooked grace.

And I am paddling
a crooked river spine
and I am gasping for a single breath
of something unpolluted
And I was growing tired
before I ever cut my hands and learned to sing
And should the cold air blow the smoke back to my eyes
I will not weep now
for the sake of anything

That rotten animal of time
bites at my heels and thats just fine
For all I ask is some division of
the tired slums and prisons from
the comfort of my mother's distant home

So now I try to make my way
and I am scavenging this place
for some artifact to sell
because the bank is raising hell
and all I have is just this weapon and its case

And on the seventh day it snowed
it was the first time I got cold
since february of this year
back when all our fickle fears in hibernation
were just ringings in our ears

Does the compass needle sway
when you lose your eyesight and your taste
Collect my money and good luck
to all those sleeping standing up
believing some of us aren't bound
and tricked
and stuck

And I am paddling a crooked river spine
and I am grasping for a single branch
beneath the shoreline
And I was growing tired before I ever cut my hands
and learned to sing

And should the cold air blow the smoke back to my eyes
I will not weep now for the sake
of anything.