Bones All Around

A song inspired by stories of "ribs" records from behind the Iron Curtain. When certain rock and jazz music was banned, it had to be printed on discarded x-rays, which would only last for a few listens. LYRICS: I bought this record on the side of the road Hanging on a shaky metal rack. Among the beets and potato sacks I knew we’d found some gold. And hid it in our coats, The light of the bones was on the tracks. Cigarette butt, middle smack. A floppy circle from a bootlegger’s stacks. Bones all around, All around. Burnt out in the middle. Bones all around, All around, while Nero played his fiddle. Ob-La-Di and Ob-La-Da, The words were shaking and so damn raw. You take your trolley to the jeweller’s store, And I’ll talk to Brezhnev and ask for more. I was scared if we ever got caught. No rock and roll was worth getting shot. But if someday I ever go missing, Go put it on and hear the record hissing. Bones all around, All around. Burnt out in the middle. Bones all around, All around, while Nero played his fiddle. Bones all around, All around. Burnt out in the middle. Bones all around, All around, while Nero played his fiddle.