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The Painter and the Actor

by Alexander Gallows

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1.
Have you ever heard a sound? A quick crack in the night? You tune in your ears to phase out the silence, expecting to hear it again But you only grow in doubt A doubt that you even heard a noise to begin with But something else comes into play A sense of presence Like suddenly you're not alone Well I'm hear to tell you that you did hear that sound And you are not alone There's a cause for those sounds, for those feelings It's a story that goes back many years Starting with a man, now a legend No one ever knew his name No one ever cared about knowing his name, at the time But he has since come to be known by many titles Some call him the "Painter and the Actor" Others "The Wanderer" Today you're more likely to hear folks refer to him as "The Soul of the Night" or "Night Soul" for short But no matter the name it all boils down to pretty tragic and somewhat common tale An artist battling with an internal struggle Always fighting who he was and what he wanted to be Never quite being able to connect with the world And the world often reciprocated those filed attempts Now you're probably wondering how he got all those names or how he became a legend in the first place Well the story starts with a fire An old decrepit house, nearly forgotten by time itself, burned down on the outskirts of a town Now its this town that our legend is supposedly from At the time of the fire locals had said they thought the home was owned by a musician or an artist of some sort, but they weren't quite sure Late at night they thought they heard music drifting from his property But no one ever cared enough to go and ask, or see who lived there The strange thing is, the only article that survived the fire was an old leather bound journal It was filled with pages of scribblings, sketches and gibberish Every now and then you could make out a word or a phrase "Locked away" "I want to be free" "Sometimes I feel there are two different people inside me" And one phrase was written over and over again, page after page "The painter and the actor" "The painter and the actor" "The painter and the actor"...
2.
Would you believe me if I were to tell you There's two different men inside me One is the painter who lives on his own While the other desires to be free And over the years I have favored the painter Who's growing quite strong locked away The other's an actor with eloquent speech Who wants to break free every day Can I be who I want to be Knowing entirely who is inside of me I dream dreams that take both of me Working together in artistic harmony High in my room just the painter alone Churning out work by the page Honing his craft in the heat of the lamp With the actor off trapped in his cage And little by little I belittle the actor Rarely would I pay him mind And slowly but surely without any practice He soon forgot all of his lines Can I be who I want to be Knowing entirely who is inside of me I dream dreams that take both of me Working together in artistic harmony If I were to change myself Wouldn't I erase myself Then we'd all just be the same thing If I were to change my word Say what you've already heard Wouldn't we all be saying the same thing Now in my later years wanting the public ears I wish I had raised them both well For the painter gave me meaning And the breath that kept me breathing But we all know the actor is what sells Can I be who I want to be Knowing entirely who is inside of me I dream dreams that take both of me Working together in artistic harmony
3.
So the fire had caused him to leave The flames pushed him to flee And the smoke led him to see He got out of that town that never let him in And the Painter and the Actor went on to see so much and learn so much and live through so much he had so much to say He just never knew how to say it His fellow fellows being shipped off to war The art and music scene changing faster than ever before Poverty, poetry, helplessness, hopelessness The fall of the age of philosophy and the rise of the age of technology With things like the color TV Marvels of the modern age, they'll have one in every home But not everyone will have a home And he saw all that He saw society grow in so many fantastic way But we still send our brother off to die And we still called each other names Sometimes he just wanted to grab the world And shake it from the shoulders Make it see what was truly important And wasn't he a little right It's been years since there were colors on the screen But now with everything going on Doesn't it seem like we're almost moving backwards Into black and white again
4.
Years ago the technicolor TV would capture our reality All the hues and all the many shades we experience each and every day Lately things they don't seem of that kind It seems as though we hit the rewind Even though things weren't perfectly clear They colors were there and we were getting near Start the countdown again All the way from ten Then repeat this my friend cause we're back In black and white again Can it be that we're living the same day over the same way Let me know my friend if there ever will come an end To live in a world that is so damn unnerving Seems so unswerving Just to know that you'll wake up and be in show That's black and white again I've seen this rerun a million time To my the jokes they just don't jive All the characters with their hopes and dreads I hear their theme songs playing in my head Right when you think we might finally be done That's when they go and draw a gun Right when you think you've heard the final applause That's when you see that we've been stuck on pause Start the countdown again All the way from ten Then repeat this my friend cause we're back In black and white again Can it be that we're living the same day over the same way Let me know my friend if there ever will come an end To live in a world that is so damn unnerving Seems so unswerving Just to know that you'll wake up and be in show That's black and white again Black Black and white Black and white again Start the countdown again All the way from ten Then repeat this my friend cause we're back In black and white again Can it be that we're living the same day over the same way Let me know my friend if there ever will come an end To live in a world that is so damn unnerving Seems so unswerving Just to know that you'll wake up and be in show That's black and white again
5.
Now this is where the story takes a bit of a turn It's also the inspiration behind another one of our legends names The Wanderer The story goes the Painter and Actor went mad from this constant battle between his internal selves Never producing the art he knew he had inside himself In a world in which he felt he had no control He roamed the country Never truly finding a home Then one day in a town not too different from the one our legend is from A newspaper article was printed In this article the reporter recounts a story about how a stranger had died in the night, and was found the next morning After the article made its way around the town Locals came out, saying they had seen the man But never really bothered to ask who he was or what he needed After all he was a drifter, a beggar, a wanderer The more the reporter learned, the more she wanted to tell the strory These are her words...
6.
The Wanderer 06:03
In the stillness of the morning A weathered weary wanderer came upon a town By the look of his clothes and the number of holes I just knew it, He was in trouble, as he struggled by the old general store “Invite him inside,” the clerk he cried, “We’ll give him supplies” Oh but “No,” said the owner, “I do not like his eyes” “He does not look like us and in him we cannot trust” So on that day They waved away A weathered weary wanderer In the heat just after midday A weathered weary wanderer walked on through the town By the look in his eyes I could tell he was crying and hoping Someone would help him As he stands begging by the old counting house “Let him inside,” the teller he cried, “We’ll give him a loan” Oh but “No,” said the banker, “For he’s just skin and bones” “He won’t pay off his debt and we need every cent” So on that day They waved away A weathered weary wanderer In the shadows of the evening A weathered weary wanderer limped on through the town By the look on his face and that staggered pace, oh is he bleeding? Yes he’s bleeding, on the steps to the temple’s front door “We’ll have him inside,” the masses cried, “And we’ll clean up his face” Oh but “No,” cried the clergy, “We haven’t the space” “And besides his head is wrapped and his spirit seems trapped” So on that day They waved away A weathered weary wanderer In the blackness of the night A weathered weary wanderer fell down to the ground With the moon overhead and the town in their beds he stopped breathing And stopped needing, all the help that never came The black of the sky seeped into his eyes and dust filled up his mouth Oh and death came to claim him, doing what we could not do The peaceful sleeps did aide him from a world so cold and cruel And on that day We waved away A weathered weary wanderer…
7.
But the story doesn't end with the death of the wanderer Oh no In fact, it is since his death that the life of this poor artist became of any interest You see the town in which this stranger died was never quite the same since his passing Sometimes at night half the town would be awoken by music Weeping melodies that dripped with worry and warning And they never could quite find the source of it A few times huge murals would appear on the sides of downtown buildings overnight, seemingly coming out of thin air They depicted haunted images that seemed all too real and all too personal to each resident of the town And every so often someone would come forward saying they saw a stranger in the middle of the night Under the lamp post in the middle of the town square And every story would be the same He had a guitar around his shoulder and was tapping a pencil on the post "Night Soul" they called him And a legend he became They would always know where to look When over the air that pencil tapping came
8.
Night Soul 05:37
Quietly beneath me In this cold and empty lot There's a mighty wind that some would say is giving all its got So are we like that one lamp post There amidst the black when I Think of how our lives once was When logic we had lacked Suddenly below In the hazing and the glow Of that one lamp post there shined a ghost of a man I used to know Please believe me and hear my words I swear I tell no lies when I say He looked upon my balcony and straight into my eyes Looked upon my balcony and straight into my eyes Why does he keep running Why does he just steal away No one gave him good loving Or locked him in their shining rays That's why he keeps running That's while he just steal away Can't you see now he has won He's just a night soul in the sun now He's just a night soul in the sun He's just a night soul in the sun now He's just a night soul in the sun What seemed to last an hour The clock moved just one tick Then that ghost took flight into the night And the flame died with one last lick With his best friend around his shoulder And a pencil in his hand I wondered if I see this ghost in my lifetime again Night can be a harsh beast So dark and unreserved Oh but so can be a young man's soul Where anger is preserved Cause in the dark the shapes can harm you And shadows spin their webs Like the thoughts that live inside our minds Doubts within our heads Thoughts that live inside our minds Doubts within our heads Why does he keep running Why does he just steal away No one gave him good loving Or locked him in their shining rays That's why he keeps running That's while he just steal away Can't you see now he has won He's just a night soul in the sun now He's just a night soul in the sun He's just a night soul in the sun now He's just a night soul in the sun

about

Through a unique blend of monologues and music, Alexander Gallows shares the legend of the Painter and the Actor. This EP crosses genres, from prog folk to hard rock, matching and portraying the many moods of its tragic main character.

credits

released May 1, 2021

All songs and monologues written by Alexander Gallows

Alexander Gallows: vocals, narrations, acoustic guitar, electric guitar, mandolin, harmonica, keys
Robert Coleman: bass
Jason A Mullinax: drums, soundscape (The Haunting Monologue)
Missy Curl: vocals (The Wanderer)

Vocals, guitars, mandolin, harmonica, and keys recorded by Alexander Gallows
Bass and drums recorded by Tommy Sherrod
Mixed and mastered by Tommy Sherrod
Album artwork by Alexander Gallows

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Alexander Gallows Washington, D.C.

Alexander Gallows is a singer songwriter from Washington D.C. Wielding both acoustic and electric guitars while weaving thought-provoking lyrics, Gallows blends the many genres he finds inspiration in, creating his unique sound.

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