Split w/ Gifthorse

by Broken Field Runner

/
  • Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

      $2 USD  or more

     

  • Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

    Wax Packs Series 1 is a collectable 7" series packaged like Baseball Cards, collect all 10 different records! Featuring new music from the best independent artists: Arliss Nancy, PJ Bond, Aspiga, Broadcaster, Such Gold, Austin Lucas, Marathon, Half Hearted Hero and more!

    Broken Field Runner and Gifthorse out of Delaware and Philadelphia contributed a split to the series. This item is a hand numbered Black Vinyl 7" featuring one song from BFR and two songs from Gifthorse.

    Tracks:
    1. Broken Field Runner: "I'm in a Bad Way"
    2. Gifthorse: "Don't Be"
    3. Gifthorse: "When I See The Sun" (Anniversary Club cover)

    Includes unlimited streaming of Split w/ Gifthorse via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 7 days

      $4 USD or more 

     

  • Full Digital Discography

    Get all 4 Broken Field Runner releases available on Bandcamp and save 20%.

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Heavy Hanging Fruit, Clear A Heaven So This Earth Can Breathe, Split w/ Gifthorse, and demos. , and , .

      $12.40 USD or more (20% OFF)

     

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about

Pre-order directly at secretaudioclub.com/products/waxpacks
Learn more about the series & hear tracks at waxpacks.us
Promotional Video - vimeo.com/77005529
For any questions please email Kyle Chapman - Store@SecretAudioClub.Com

credits

released January 2, 2013

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Broken Field Runner Albany, New York

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Track Name: I'm in a Bad Way
Is this just a habit you formed? Speckled teeth around yellow nails you bit too short? Hang your head above your pedalboard and scream "slow it down to a heartbeat." Slow it down to a heartbeat. Endure.

I never got the chance to say goodbye or good riddance. I never got the chance to press "Take Nothing For Granted."

And there's an LP spinning but the title's too long, if the needle keeps popping put some weight in your arm. There's a throat that speaks in rhyme but it doesn't sing the songs you like. There's an LP spinning but the title's too long, if the needle keeps popping put some weight in your arm. There's a spouse that asks polite, but it's too much to give her what she likes. "No not tonight."

We threw a party to say farewell to floral town the Eerie Canal and Great Lakes held. Kyle looked me in the eyes and said you lied. He said, "If you're his friend, he's not dead. Save John Boy's life."

And there's an LP spinning but the title's too long, if the needle keeps popping put some weight in your arm. There's a throat that speaks in rhyme but it doesn't sing the songs you like. There's an LP spinning but the title's too long, if the needle keeps popping put some weight in your arm. There's a spouse that asks polite, but it's too much to give her what she likes. "No not tonight."
Track Name: Sunset in a Wooden Frame
I made a list of kids that I'll never have; a list of places that I've been but will never go back. It filled a page up to the half (a glass half full or a flag half-mast?). Uncomfortable with the ways and the means, thread counts on hundreds of sheets, latex and the third degree, blood, sweat, and the birds and the bees: it's like a yoke around my neck. It's like a yoke around my neck, and somehow I'm left without; directionless.

I remember a face without a name. I remember a sunset in a tacky wooden frame. A sunrise? I guess it could have been, but then I would never take a look at it again the same way I did.

You picked me up and we kissed aluminum. I held the lead that's stuck embedded in your thumb from train tracks and skinned knees. Break lights burn like effigies against a night obscured by windshield spattered rain. Undergarments tangled up in change. Woke up alive, cursed the skies and then toss and turn somewhere below heaven.

It's a yoke around my neck. It's a drag, a hand-rolled cigarette. Doubt is death's receptionist. It's a yoke around my neck, and somehow I'm left without; directionless.