Out For Blood 

Recorded at the Free House, Brussels, Belgium and New Orleans, USA between 2022 and 2025
Produced by Nicolas Michaux

We Need Each Other
Recognize a Friend
Cigarettes Inside
Out for Blood
Particular Poison
Delmar Avenue
Drinkin’ in the Land of Lincoln
My Song on the Radio
Pay for Being Free
The Walls Are Closing In
Evening Prayer

LYRICS

We Need Each Other

I need her to get to heaven
She needs me to get to work
I leave home when the sun is setting
I return way past dark
I didn’t know back when I met her
All the things she’d have me do
A man needs a women to make him better
And a woman needs a man but she don’t need you.

When life seems fixing to get us down, men have ways to get around
We can quit our job, we can hop a train, we can ride our thumb in the breakdown lane
Hole up in some fleabag motel and ride that righteous road to hell
But the fairer sex has a tougher time beating it on down the line
‘Cause the world is violent and rough, full of dead-end streets and stuff
So a woman needs a good man to rely on, needs a strong shoulder to cry on
Needs a good man who is able to help put food on the table
And in return for the work and stress she gives him love and tenderness
She calms him with her sweet caress
But soon despite her softest touch he starts to think she needs too much
And when he stares out at that horizon and dreams of the boxcars he could be riding
He says to himself ‘I’m her man, no one can do just what I can
She’ll be here when I return, I just need some road to burn
I just need to blow off steam, she’ll understand just what I mean’
So off he goes to make the scene
And on the day when he comes home the cupboards bare and his family’s gone
And a note on the fridge stares him in the face that says ‘we’re at my parents place’
Then soon the rumors start to fly, she’s been seen with some new guy
In the nicer neighborhood, and his buddies say she’s looking good
And when it all comes crashing down, he finds the disco part of town
And what was lullabies and flowers turns to never ending happy hours
In smokey bars and vacant rooms with low-down girls and midnight moons
With no-good friends and sad sad songs, cigarettes and cold gray dawns
Dead-end jobs and sad cafes, endless beers and empty lays
And he finds there was no treasure hid, that he lost his soul when he lost the kid
And when he sees what he’s become he asks the Lord ‘what have I done?’
‘Cause a man’s burden’s not getting around, it’s getting lost then getting found.

So I need her to get to heaven
She needs me to get to work
I leave home when the sun is setting
Then I return way past dark
And if she acts crazy I just let her
And remember I act crazy too
‘Cause needs a women to make him better
And a woman needs a man but she don’t need you.


Recognize A Friend

Billy wore those Beatle boots when they were in high style
And everyone was sporting like a dandy
But no one from the old crowd’s been around here in a while
And it’s getting hard to recognize a friend.

'Cause you don’t see those same ladies in the costumes that they wore
And you don’t see those same faces on the sidewalk anymore
No one’s blowing smoke rings or laughing like before
And it’s getting hard to recognize a friend
It’s getting hard to recognize a friend.

Now Billy’s tending bar on most Tuesday afternoons
They say that he’s living on Old Speckled Hen and fumes
He looks twenty years older and it’s been too many moons
Since he and I could recognize a friend.

‘Cause you don’t see those same ladies in the costumes that they wore
And you don’t see those same faces on the sidewalk anymore
No one’s blowing smoke rings or laughing like before
And it’s getting hard to recognize a friend.
It’s getting hard to recognize a friend.


Cigarettes Inside

They drove from Cleveland down to Nashville
Where Billy had been living for a year
I left in the morning from St. Louis
And we met before the show to drink a beer.

But there was no audience to speak of
Just four walls and a guy behind a bar
It laid us low and left our spirits weakened
Four middle aged men wondering who they are.

It’s hard after twenty years of singing
To be singing still to empty rooms
When the golden days of youth are all behind you
And nothing but uncertainty looms.

And at 3 Crow bar we talked about drugs and women
Trying to conceal our wounded pride
We had nothing to show for twenty years of singing
But it was good smoking cigarettes inside.
It was good smoking cigarettes inside.

They hit the road early back to Cleveland
And Billy and I kicked around old times
After a while I drove back to St. Louis
Feeling rough but guilty of no crimes.

It’s hard after twenty years of singing
To be singing still to empty rooms
When the golden days of youth are all behind you
And nothing but uncertainty looms.

But at 3 Crow bar we had a new beginning
Talking about things we mostly hide
We had nothing to show for twenty years of singing
But it was good smoking cigarettes inside.
It was good smoking cigarettes inside.


Out For Blood

He got the wrong directions and he wound up in the hills
He was seeking missed connections and cheap thrills
Dreaming of old girlfriends and calling up bad dudes
Anything to drive away the blues
And it ended on a highway beneath a yellow moon
Him, the hurdy gurdy man, and the Merchant of Doom
Who paid for the last round and left them lying in the mud
And now is out for blood.

I’m living out my days and earning my keep
Where rent is sky high and life is cheap
I’m throwing flowers off the roof and going half insane
Trying to outrun the rain
There’s a horse out on the highway with a rider dressed in white
Seventy fires of funeral pyres are burning in the night
The animal that moans has cloven hooves and chews its cud
And we are out for blood.

I got your letter months ago it’s hanging on a tack
I’m sorry that I never wrote you back
Your misery is see-through and easy to define
And I am growing old before my time
When I turn off the lights there is a stranger in my room
It could be an archangel or the Merchant of Doom
But his breaths are getting louder now and landing with a thud
And he is out for blood.
He is out for blood.


Delmar Avenue

I cruised into town on fumes and wings of 3 am
I’m getting used to empty rooms and things out of can
She said I just barely missed and now I’m out on a limb
But I could tell when we first kissed that she’d go back to him
And now I’m looking for solutions and pushing forty-two
And wearing out delusions on Delmar Avenue.

She said I blew it from the start and looked into my eyes
I don’t know if she’s good at heart or a devil is disguise
And now I’m six beers in and whistling a song we all once knew
Holding out and giving in on Delmar Avenue.

Now, everything is similar in happy families
But now I’m on the outside with my elbows on my knees
Almost was a one-hit-wonder almost got my due
But now I’m looking backwards on these memories of you
But still I’m lucky to be living even though I’m sad and blue
And everything’s forgiven out on Delmar Avenue.


Particular Poison

Choose your particular poison
Master the right kind of mood
Find a way to make it through Sunday
Surrounded by your own special brood.

Clean all the sheets you been soiling
Water your hands and your face
Then choose your particular poison
And find your own state of grace.

You might have thought that it was all fated
Your reputation’s pearl in the shell
But the day that you go chasing greatness
Remember it can all go to hell.

You wake up one cloudy morning
To find that it isn’t the case
Then choose your particular poison
And find your own state of grace.

You died in the war with King Philip
You died in the war with the French
You died in the wars with the English
And you died in the wars of the trench.

We live for a hazy tomorrow
Then vanish without a trace
So choose your particular poison
And find your own state of grace.

Choose your particular poison
And find your own state of grace.


Drinkin' In the Land Of Lincoln

Drinkin' in the land of Lincoln
Betty May was hot to trot
And I liked her style and her easy smile
So I gave it a shot.

I had me a scotch and soda
She had me in her sights
She was dancing to Merle Haggard
And smoking Newport Lights.

I was struttin’ she was winkin'
Drinking in the land of Lincoln
Drinking in the land of Lincoln.

Now, the stars shown down upon us
And I strummed on my guitar
And we did just what we wanted
In the backseat of her car.

I told her my sad history
And we drank Thunderbird wine
Then she mentioned that her husband
Had a mustache just like mine.

And that got me to thinkin'
Drinkin' in the land of Lincoln
Drinkin' in the land of Lincoln.

She was just another mamma
I was just another boy
Now I’m sitting at some happy hour
In Cairo Illinois.

Jottin' down this story
That’s a-flowing from my pen
About driving drunk at eighty miles an hour
At 3 a.m.

But now that sun’s a-sinkin'
Drinkin' in the land of Lincoln.
Drinkin' in the land of Lincoln.


My Song on the Radio

I’m driving across state lines
Low on fuel and out of cash
My guitar's in the backseat
With my bottle and my stash
I’m hatless and I’m hopeless
And I’m five o’clock shadowed
With my song on the radio
And my heart on the road.

Somewhere outside of Memphis
Things went a bit too far
With a middle-aged divorcee
With a nickname and a scar
For weeks we wet our whistles
Where streams of whiskey flowed
With my song on the radio
And my heart on the road.

Now I’m singing a borrowed tune
And dreaming of my dear
But that dream is just a shadow
That grows longer every year
So sing a murder ballad
And I’ll sing a funeral ode
With my song on the radio
And my heart on the road.

Now the Lord would make us joyful
Though we’re lying on the floor
So I’ll see you some odd evening
Standing in an open door
You’ll be in your Sunday best
I’ll be mustachioed
With my song on the radio
And my heart on the road.


Pay for Being Free

With a heavy head and a lonely heart
On an open road you started down to flee
From open wounds and broken vows
And dusty towns and lousy company
That you’ve been place to place
And that you’ve fallen far from grace is plain to see
It’s the toll of all your vices
Whose price is what you pay for being free.

Behind you are the times when all the signs
Your wild and winding path would be
Both a thing that blessed you
And left you a cruel eulogy
That you be broke and beaten
And wander east of Eden’s the decree
It’s the roll of all your dices
Whose price is what you pay for being free.

From high up on the mountain
There’s a sound that comes a-pounding in the key
Of every song you ever sung
To anyone both friend and enemy
And out on the horizon
There’s another sun capsizing in the sea
And the open road just widens
And that way is where you’ll pay for being free.

The open road just widens
And that way is where you'll pay for being free.


The Walls are Closing In

I know you think I’m selfish
But the only one I’m cheating on is me
I’m shaving off my later years
With razor blades of smoke and beers, you see
And I pray to God the good in me
Will outlast the bastard that I’ve been
But the waters of defeat are on the rise
And the walls are closing in.

It’s true I’m broke and busted
But I trust the Lord will someday make me whole
I’m a lover and a sport
But I keep coming up too short on every roll
I’m living for the past
But its given me one lash for every sin
And thunder clouds are darkening the skies
And the walls are closing in.

When this race is run
And I’m bound for Kingdom Come I will reply
As the soft breeze upon your cheek
That will be my spirit passing by
Till then I’ll put my chances
With the angels a-dancing on the pin
Even as we listen to the cries
As the walls are closing in.


Evening Prayer

History is written by the winners
Country songs are written by the sinners
Whose sirens are singing by the rivers
That gently roll and flow into the sea.

The spirit of a lifetime’s waking hours
Is unfolding before me like the flowers
And treading on its path of unseen powers
Is writing down a hidden mystery.

At twilight you can hear us in the taverns
Numbered like he stars, adorned in patterns
A voice out of the cold so bright it shatters
From here to there all eternity.

History is written by the winners
Country songs are written by the sinners
So save a morning prayer just for the singers
And save an evening prayer just for me.


 

VIDEOS

We Need Each Other


Recognize a Friend

Cigarettes Inside