by Bayoné

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Recorded, mixed and encouraged by Smokey Joe Clayton. Mastered by Bob Cooper. Artwork by Cassandra Frances. Shout out to Clooney. Shout out to anyone who's shown us love. Everything's appreciated! The physical copies are available from Birmingjams and Struggletown!


released October 24, 2013



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Bayoné Sheffield, UK


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Track Name: Cunts
These cunts are more like prison guards
If only i didn't want to be inside
I'll waste my life in single file
I waste my life in single file
and i've been calling all along
for a saint catherine sing along

Don't let the marks on the back of my hands fool you
i'm wide awake and i'm choking on your words
don't let the scar on the side of my head, let you think any less of me

If my father had told me
there's no such thing as money
would i try so hard to prove myself?
With my head between my knees
so they know my body from the teeth
and a priest who never knew my name
can make his way down a rosary

Beneath bouquet, mahogany and the land i've been living off
surviving on your saliva too long
my mother tips the croupier
a 20 every christmas day
when they body gives up you'll hear the organ carry on
Track Name: Buffalo
You're honesty has got me questioning my own strong tongue
you stood your ground for the border, you left the body to burn
You wouldn't follow suit or cast your name on the crest with no regrets
coming home, this city's embarrassing
and i'm waiting, i'm humble, i'm all ears
but this angers changed since i was only 15 years old
it's now stone cold
there's no sweat on the walls
there's no room for the poor
and our trade is all we're born for
and this money it clothes me
it's never beside me
and i miss the times we had below the floors of 235
cemetry road, it was your home

Shave the hair of've my head
margarita down my neck
smoke the tongue out my mouth like a fox for the fur

it wasn't cold like this
when we passed through buffalo
with roleo to keep me up (keep me up)
Track Name: Throats
I was born from the marrow of your rib last autumn
if i'd known it was the last day, i woulda made it last longer
we built the pool with our bare hands, we filled it up with mosquito's
now i'm waiting for the shortest day to pass my mothers coat by
You are a drunken brother, not a cheating father
your home-cut hands are the only pair that i have grown to trust
what do you say we keep this going till i'm decaying?

Give me strength, nothing more, nothing less, take me home.
and let the punch push the smoke to the back of my throat
We're cavalry, you and me
losing ground to the bloodhound, can you feel the heat?
on great eastern street

Give me strength, nothing more, nothing less
and let the punch push the smoke to the back of my throat