This Is All Going To End Badly.

by The Last Domino

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1.
2.
3.
03:19
4.
01:39
5.

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released December 31, 2013

1, 2, and 5 written, arranged, & performed by John Orr
©2013 Glow Of The Night Publishing (ASCAP)
3 written by My Vitriol, ©2001 Infectious Records (used with permission)
4 written by Sponge, ©2003 Idol Records (used with permission)

Flute on 1 by Gabriela Mago
Cello on 1 by Jessica Perrin
Trumpet on 2 by Kyle Gobel
Cello on 3 by Mollie Fischer
Additional "vocals" on 5 by Casey McMurtry

Produced August-December 2013 by John Orr @ Stone Creek Studios in Austin, TX
Trumpet recorded by Ryan Burklow in Indianapolis, IN
Mastered by Luiza Carvalho in Boston, MA

Photography & design by John Orr

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The Last Domino Austin, Texas

John Orr has performed under the name The Last Domino since 2005. What began as acoustic singer/songwriter fare with his first EP blossomed into a unique style through subsequent releases that spans a myriad genres from rock to electronic to Parisian waltz. Domino shows are innovative one-man-army performances, layering organic loops & beats with various instruments like the saxophone & melodica. ... more

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Track Name: I'm Starting To See Things
I remember at four years old
Head at a hundred and three
Eyes were foggy, mind was groggy
Clothes were soggy with sweat both hot and cold
Parents shambled into the room
Both did burn, boil, and bleed
Reaching for me, bodies gory
All the stories I feared were taking mold

I'm starting to see things in my innocent brain
And I wonder if I'll truly ever know sanity again

I remember at seventeen
Nestled tight in my sheets
Mind awaking, nerves a'quaking
Body aching to move a single inch
Roommate wandering 'round the room
While he was still asleep
Windows creaking, red eyes peeking
Something sneaking under the blanket's edge

I'm starting to see things, hear and feel them, too
And I wonder if normality shan't be part of my milieu

And I wonder if I am still breathing
Or if my mind, my tricksy mind, is deceiving me
(Auditory, gustatory, no such thing as euphoria)
And I wonder if my heart's still beating
Because othewise, I don't know why I would be bleeding this freely

I'm starting to see things even at thirty-one
And I wonder if my bout with madness has only just begun
So I'll just keep on seeing things with no end in sight
And I wonder, when I die, if I'll only see a trick of the light
Track Name: Guardian Angel
God loved the world so much that He made Man in His eye
Preference for them caused to make His true bannermen cry
Some left the Gates to see what all the fuss was about
Me, I alit on a window of some little boy's cozy house

Is this all that was made;
Rank imitations of once-loyal soldiers?
(Quare, Domine?)
Did we fall out of grace
For specks on a timeline, lives already over?

"Guardian angels": ironic inventions of Man
Little do they know we rain all the sulphur we can
Take now, for instance, the young man I've followed for years
Actor, musician, and failure at all because I interfere

God has disowned me because of what I took away from a man
But Lucifer tells me that he once dared God do the same
How 'bout that?
Track Name: All Of Me
lyrics by Som Wardner (used w/ permission)
Track Name: Sanitarium
lyrics by Vinnie Dombroski (used w/ permission)
Track Name: This Is All Going To End Badly.
TRANSCRIPT:

The higher up I get, the farther back the winds push me.

(I'm always the shortest one in my dreams.)

Once I almost made it to the top. That's when the avalanche came.

(I often think about life in terms of intangibles. / How do you mean? / Well, for instance, my favorite song is out there somewhere and I still haven't heard it. What If I never do? *laugh* That's healthy, right?)

I should have been brought down with it. Instead I'm the sole survivor; the inheritant of a dirty-white wasteland.

(But are creature comforts enough if I don't have another creature to comfort?)

So do I keep climbing? Or do I turn back and embrace the familiar? Lather, rinse, repeat...

(Oh, yeah. Give the word and I'll cry on command. A real-life tragedy and my eyes are as dry as the sand.)

My ribs are flecked with bruises. I'm tired.

(I've been loved and I've been loathed. I think I prefer just being tolerated.)

If this is all that awaits me at the top, I think I'll stay right here. And sleep.

("Tonight": it means millions of things to millions of people, paints millions of pictures. It's a word of infinite possibility. Just not for me. Not tonight. / And why do you say that? / I don't know.)

I was always ill-prepared.

This Is All Going To End Badly.