More Die of Heartbreak CDs are packaged in 6 Panel DVDigipaks with a Custom sized 12 panel poster fold DVD case insert (14' x 14") with a Custom sized 12 panel poster fold that fits inside the package. Plus, ALL of the album art is illustrated by Kerby Rosanes of Sketchy Stories, based out of the Philippines. It is intricately detailed and tailored toward the content of the album. For those who still listen to CDs, who get into the lyrics and like to follow along, and love the feel of the packaging, the raw feeling of tearing off the shrink wrap, either as a novelty item that complements the art or something more that matches the story of an album as an experience, this is more than a bonus. It's especially made for you, just for coming on this ride with us. It's one huge thank you for listening and caring about the music.
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lyrics
Father's Hands
Truncated Chorus (x2):
Men carve hate in the hearts of men
Feeling how it feels to feel again
Verse 1:
We didn't have much, but we had us
For some, it would never be enough,
and we had love, though I grew up rough,
I learned what it meant to be a man -- thus
my father's hands, calloused and tough,
would teach me how to throw a punch with
the very same hands that the very same man
once held his new born son
I would never know love without pain
To me, they were one in the same
Maybe that's true, and I really don't know,
how I really want to deal with the hate
I disintegrate, break it into parts,
sleep in the arch of his lifeline
In the pads of his hands are the maps of a man
that could hold my heart for a lifetime
Chorus:
Hands on me
Men carve hate in the hearts of men
Pleasure and pain
Feeling how it feels to feel again
Hands on me
Men carve hate in the hearts of men
We go numb
Feeling how it feels to feel again
Verse 2:
My father's hands instilled mistrust,
obscene but tender, coarse to touch
We called our fist fights arguments,
silence deafening, bruises, cuts,
palms like leather, knuckles blunt
How children sometimes learn to love:
learn from us what was taught to us --
patterns, cycles, violence
And, he never laid a hand on my mother once
She told me he was never really taught to love
Although he never said it, that he loved his son
Now, we try to talk at least twice a month
I participate, break it into parts,
on the other side of the phone line,
In the pads of his hands, the chance to understand
and heal in the course of a lifetime
Chorus 2 (x1)
Verse 3:
And, I woke up calm in thought
led by scars and the beat of my heart,
and my hands feel large and wrong,
stained by pain I could never wash off,
and the nights are long, because
I’ve been both in physical assault --
the helpless victim and person at fault
and both only involve loss
I hurt everything that I love
A piece of me feels I was taught
Maybe that's true, and I really don't know,
how I want to deal with it all
I rehabilitate, put together parts,
staring at the arch in my lifeline
In the palm of my hand
is a promise to my dad
to break this cycle in a lifetime
Chorus 3 (x1)
Truncated Chorus (x1)
Coda:
We are men who were pushed away by their fathers,
whose only hope for true human connection
lives in our detachment
Chuckie Campbell is an American hip hop artist who lives in Buffalo, NY. Campbell commonly performs with a live band (drums,
keys, and a full horn section), to make for a dynamic, powerful, and eclectic approach to hip hop, filled with fluid instrumentation, lush musical arrangements, and heartfelt poetic nuance....more
Deep shares a collection of beats and instrumentals that reflect his memories of the Lower East Side, pre-gentrification. Bandcamp New & Notable Dec 11, 2015
