Get all 11 Sean Tobin releases available on Bandcamp and save 35%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Live at Kim Marie's (Deluxe), Hands Like Mine, Hail the Carpenter, Old Magnolia, Song for the End of the World, Live in Asbury Park, Ghost of the Arcade, St. Patrick's Day Forever, and 3 more.
1. |
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So this is how it ends, this is how we go:
sitting on the front porch with a dog and a radio.
The news begins to fade, and the band to play.
I guess if we’re going down, it’ll be in our own way.
Well they say it’s just our time,
and if that’s just the case, well I guess that’s fine.
‘Cause all the plans and mistakes we’ve made,
they’re all so clear to us now but too little too late.
This is a song for the end of the world,
so sing along for the end of the world.
Can’t say we didn’t try.
Can’t say we didn’t try.
Can’t say we didn’t try.
Can’t say we didn’t try.
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2. |
Wolves
03:21
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Ads in the paper Monday morn’.
Obituaries. Capricorn.
Wife makes the coffee, heads out the door.
I’m in the kitchen, my daily war.
Just give me the work, and I’ll do it well.
I’ll drive a thousand miles, a million nails.
I feel like a dog that’s been chained outside.
I hear the wolves howling, I hear ‘em cry.
When I was a young man, eager and bold,
I worked for the factory, but they up and sold.
Now I’ve gotten older, country has too.
It’s all sex and computers, and nothing to do.
Just give me the work, and I’ll do it well.
I’ll drive a thousand miles, a million nails.
I feel like a dog that’s been chained outside.
I hear the wolves howling, I hear ‘em cry.
Just give me the work, and I’ll do it well.
I’ll drive a thousand miles, a million nails.
I feel like a dog that’s been chained outside.
I hear the wolves howling, I hear ‘em cry.
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3. |
Caroline
03:40
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I keep waking every morning with a whisper in my head.
The smell of her perfume, it still lingers in her corner of the bed.
If I’d known that she would leave me, I might never have approached her in that bar.
But I’m luckier than most to have loved her close rather than afar.
There’s still lipstick stains on glasses, and dresses on the floor.
There’s no beauty in a casket, no sense in asking for
something that you know is simply out of time,
so I thank God for the time when you were mine,
Caroline.
These days I go driving just to see where I end up.
From the corner of my eye, I still see her in that truck.
Her head against the window, and her feet up on the dash,
but when I turn to say hello, it’s just fields of sky and oak trees flying past.
There’s still lipstick stains on glasses, and dresses on the floor.
There’s no beauty in a casket, no sense in asking for
something that you know is simply out of time,
so I thank God for the time when you were mine,
Caroline.
There’s still lipstick stains on glasses, and dresses on the floor.
There’s no beauty in a casket, no sense in asking for
something that you know is simply out of time,
so I thank God for the time when you were mine,
Caroline.
I keep waking every morning with a whisper in my head.
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4. |
American Lands
04:17
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If I go, will you follow?
If I stay, will you run?
I am leaving this morning
for American lands.
If I say that I love you.
would you tell me the truth?
Or has time made you falter
far away as the moon?
If I go, will you follow?
If I stay, will you run?
I am leaving this morning
for American lands.
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5. |
Catcher in the Rye
04:25
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Feel I’m drowning
loose change in a fountain,
watching water cloud the night.
I write letters
to myself all about it.
Someday I’ll read ‘em when I’ve the time.
So put me in a novel, and let me do some good.
Write me in an epic tale.
These days I just feel like Holden Caulfield,
but I’m no catcher in the rye.
I hate bigots,
and I hate crooks,
but I still serve ‘em every day.
Drooling jawlines
casting looks
at frightened females half their age.
So put me in a novel, and let me do some good.
Write me in an epic tale.
These days I just feel like Holden Caulfield,
but I’m no catcher in the rye.
There’s a woman
in New York City
working nights to feed her kids.
Never sleeping,
always dreaming.
She’s the Catcher in the Rye.
So put me in a novel, and let me do some good.
Write me in an epic tale.
These days I just feel like Holden Caulfield,
but I’m no catcher in the rye.
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6. |
6:10 PM
01:34
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Will you take my mind?
Take it with you. Take it with you.
Tell you that I’m fine.
Be polite now. Be polite now.
‘Cause everybody’s got their own shit
to deal with. To deal with.
But do you have the time?
Can I hold your hand?
Can I love you? Can I love you?
I could be your man
if you’d let me. If you’d let me.
And maybe I could do some good.
Well, I could. Well, I could.
If you’d just give me the time.
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7. |
Hail the Carpenter
04:37
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He was sitting on the front porch made of cedar, cigar in his hand,
mulling over decades like monuments scattered ‘cross the land.
And the smoke just sat around him like a child that couldn’t get enough,
clinging to his Carhartt, and begging that he’d take another puff.
He said, “I built the end of 80, and paved the way from here to Golden Gate.
And I built that chair you sit in, and houses all across the Garden State.”
So hail the work, and hail the douglas fir,
and hail the carpenter.
Well, he hasn’t worn a necktie since retiring back in 1984.
Living on his savings, his social, and his pension from the corps.
Now he spends his summers lounging in a trailer somewhere high up in the hills,
dealing games of hold ‘em, solitaire, and reminiscing thrills.
He said, “I built the end of 80, and paved the way from here to Golden Gate.
And I built that chair you sit in, and houses all across the Garden State.”
So hail the work, and hail the douglas fir,
and hail the carpenter.
“Every structure of this world was built by hands like mine.
Everything that’s kept you safe from the dawn of time
was me.”
So hail the work, and hail the douglas fir,
and hail the carpenter.
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8. |
My Own Heaven
03:21
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I’m tired of waking up in blue jeans
feeling like a cigarette.
Burned out for your entertainment,
digging deeper into debt.
I’m tired of billionaires and sitcoms
cracking jokes to pass the time.
Mostly I’m just tired of living,
I think it’s killing me alive.
It’s killing me alive.
I’m tired of everyone complaining
‘bout the way things ought to be,
how they were back in the old days,
everyone including me.
But every now and then, I get a glimpse of my own heaven.
It’s the smell of salty air, and the town that I live in.
It’s the way she says I love you after two glasses of wine.
It’s the sound of birds at sunrise. It’s her lips against mine.
I’m tired of sleeping in for hours
without reason to awake.
It’s like swimming laps in concrete.
It’s hurry up and wait.
I’m tired of politics and taxes
and not seeing any change.
Mostly I’m just tired of dying,
I think it’s driving me insane.
But every now and then, I get a glimpse of my own heaven.
It’s the smell of salty air, and the town that I live in.
It’s the way she says I love you after two glasses of wine.
It’s the sound of birds at sunrise. It’s her lips against mine.
It’s a palm tree in December and mountains in the spring.
It’s the first night of the summer and the warm air it brings.
It’s making sure I never have to feel alone again,
‘Cause up in my own heaven, the party never ends.
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9. |
Old Magnolia
02:36
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Old magnolia,
sweet ambrosia,
laying down in the
shadow of the trees.
Talking politics.
What’s a crucifix?
When we’re twenty-six,
will you marry me?
Will you marry me?
I have always
thought of always
as such a long way
to eternity.
But when I’m with you,
all I want to do
is make love to you
and hope time would freeze.
Old magnolia,
sweet ambrosia,
laying down in the
shadow of the trees.
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10. |
Never Coming Down
03:48
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Piles of laundry in the corner, empty fridge since Tuesday last,
cups of coffee from the morning writing songs I won’t record
‘bout the way this life has passed.
Spend my evenings watching TV, spend my money at the bar.
Spent my 20’s chasing something I might never comprehend.
Don’t know how I got this far.
‘Cause I’m a sailor, though I’ve never owned a boat.
And I’m a cowboy, though I’ve never learned to rope.
Well, I’m a dreamer with my head up in the clouds.
I’m up here, and I’m never coming down.
I’m up here, and I’m never coming down.
I was brought up to believe in something bigger than just me.
To be kind, to be humble, and to work for what I want,
but to know the things I need.
So I’ve got friends that I know love me, cause I love them just as hard.
When the risks I take go sideways, I know I’ll be okay.
Hell, I’m living in the stars.
‘Cause I’m a sailor, though I’ve never owned a boat.
And I’m a cowboy, though I’ve never learned to rope.
Well, I’m a dreamer with my head up in the clouds.
I’m up here, and I’m never coming down.
I’m up here, and I’m never coming down.
I’m a sailor, though I’ve never owned a boat.
And I’m a cowboy, though I’ve never learned to rope.
Well, I’m a dreamer with my head up in the clouds.
I’m up here, and I’m never coming down.
I’m up here, and I’m never coming down.
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Sean Tobin Asbury Park, New Jersey
Born and raised on the New Jersey shore, Tobin was influenced by folk-singing troubadours and high-energy rockers alike. His performances and rock n’ roll-tinged releases are due mostly in part to his upbringing in the Jersey shore bar scene. Tobin honed his craft playing countless shows in dives, clubs and basements, as well as during his time busking the streets of Galway, Ireland. ... more
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