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about

"Dawn," the first EP in the "Lucky 7 Trilogy" by Gasoline Lollipops, witnesses the sometimes violent birth of hope.

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released July 4, 2012

All songs written by Clay Rose, except "White Trash," written by Steve Young

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Gasoline Lollipops Boulder, Colorado

Gasoline Lollipops is an alt-country band from Colorado that combines the sincerity of modern folk with the energy and rebelliousness of punk. The result is an all-new incarnation of alt-country that is both high-energy and heartfelt, like the American highway's soundtrack. ... more

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Track Name: Dawn
Dawn opened my window, came into my room stumbling
Sent my alphabet block dream castle crumbing
Fumbling for the light switch, singing in pitch with the lark

She moves slow
and graceful
Pulling the stitch that holds me to the dark

I stood stark and bare against the morning like a babe
The cool air, bewildering
Like freedom on a slave
I was saved beyond all reckoning or repair

She moves so slow and graceful
Killing with kindness the nightmares
Track Name: Full Steam Ahead
The city lights twirl by like a carousel
Hold on tight, we might just ride this thing to Hell
The tracks run out from underneath your sleeve
and underneath this train that takes us into Tennessee

Just give us a place to lay our heads
We'll ride these rails until we're dead
We ain't gonna change for no man or state
Full steam ahead!

It's Alabama by nightfall; Louisiana by dawn,
freedom, if the lawmen don't find out which train we're on
We got no food for cooking', nah the Sterno's just for light
but the way it hits your cherry lips whets my apatite.

Chorus

The jungle down in Baton Rouge is more than ya ever seen
but tonight, just shut your eyes, my love, and let 'em light your dreams
'Cause come this time tomorrow, we'll have reign of the whole damn camp
It might be Hell for a christian; it's Heaven for a tramp
Track Name: The Wire
Burn that white flag, I’ve gone mad.
I wouldn’t fly that color to save my soul.
Was it the fact I was born bad, or the guidance that I had
that designed me to self destruct before I’m sold.

It’s down to the wire, the stakes get higher.
I walk through fire; I’ll never tire.

The key to the brave, is they think they’ll be saved
right up until the day that they’re dead and gone.
I guess I’m the same: I can’t fathom my fate,
so I believe my name is the chosen one,
and that’s my loaded gun.

My only weakness lies between me and my woman.
She’s the only thing worth bein’ weak for.
If you saw my love for her, you might think I was bluffin’
but that would only be because you never sought more.
Yes, I guess perhaps you really should have thought more
on the things that you let your soul be bought for.

And tell me why I should comply
with a system that sucks dreams dry.
Will it offer me security?
How much does it cost?
Not much: just my right to be free.
Track Name: Cannonball
Love is like a cannonball
Open the door, or it will use the wall
And blow your heart into smithereens
Leave the prettiest mess that you’ve ever seen

But how does it go when you’re on your own
Love is a river, you’re a sinking stone
It rose like the sun, light filled up your home
But it sank like a bomb and left you shivering to the bone

Love is like a speeding train
It’ll take you where you’re going unless your standing in its way
And then it blows you right off the track
And leaves you with regrets that you can never take back

But these are the instruments we all paint with
The pigment of a prayer, the water of a myth
And we can destroy the only reason to live
Or we can create what they say don’t exist

And it all just turns to fire and rain
And you will never be the same again
It’s true, you may just be a pawn in the game
But then again, this may be no game at all
Love’s a cannonball
Track Name: Pop's Song
"Hey Son, how ya been?
I hear Los Angeles can turn boys to men"
"Yeah well, hey, Pop, you know, it's not quite like that.
It's more like they turn dreams into cold, hard facts.
And I feel like going home. I feel all alone."

Somewhere in Nebraska, a ghost of the Boss's harp blows
and somewhere on I-80, an 18 wheeler rolls.
And there's a little boy riding shotgun,
his Papa's listening' to Hoyte Axton
and they're trying to find the alphabet
in the license plates as they pass 'em

"And I miss you, I'm sorry I never tell you
but a man has an ego that won't let him say what he needs too,
like, 'I feel like comin' home' and, 'i feel all alone'
Well, I feel like comin' home."
Track Name: Longest Night
I’m trying to dig up change for the Kansas Turnpike toll
I’m trying to dig up faith in the strength left in your soul
These county lines, they flash by with every cigarette
Yes, this is the longest night that I’ve had to drive through yet

Every hotel room smells like death
The clouds across the moon move slow like your breath
I wonder why the good times were so easy to forget
Yes this is the longest night that I’ve had to drive through yet

The fog lights come on with the rain
Missouri is gone but not the pain
And I’m praying to God now but I don’t know if he exists
but what else could I do for you on a night like this?

Your heart still pumps blood, I wish that it pumped hope
I’m trying to bring you love at the end of your rope
I’m blowing back these speed limit signs just trying to outrun regret
Yeah, this is the longest night that I’ve had to drive through yet.
Track Name: White Trash
I wake up every morning, about the break of dawn
I hear the rooster crowing, and I'm feeling all alone
There's honeysuckle outside my window; dew sparkling on the vine
and those little squirrels are barking like they were mountain lions
I get to thinking about the road and all the times they come back again
I was born a child of these muddy roads and I'll die here lonesome as the wind

Because all my cars, they done broke down, layin' in my front yard
I ought get one together but the work just seems too hard
A man come by this morning wanting to paint my barn
Well, he painted, "See Rock City, US Hwy 31"

I used to have a church woman, pretty as she could be
run off with a gospel singer down in Nashville, TN
So I drink a lot of liquor, Lord, I drink a lot of booze
I'm a midnight country rambler, you know, and I ain't got much to lose.

I wake up a lot of mornings, laying down in jail
My head, it will be hurting', you know, and I won't be feel in' too well
Now, that ol' fat-bellied sheriff, he'll come a walking' up to me
He wants to know how it feels, not being free
I tell him, "It doesn't matter much; I don't care a whole lot
'Cause I'd rather be in jail in Hell than a fat fucking cop!"