Posters are pressed from two 11 x 17" linoleum blocks carved by the band's artist-in-residence, Mike Giuliana
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Words hung heavy on your heart, like that stone round your neck, when you were thrown in, cast out into the crowd. The face you showed, the truth you told hit home, but too late. And a quiet man (this one), turns his face and shuts his eyes. He shuts them tight. The baying wolves on your trail, and the executioner’s song, it ripped the autumn air. You ran right home one last time; you’d show them all. A child is asleep and he’s waiting for his mother. (A child asleep is the sweetest sight of all.) A child is asleep and the footsteps gingerly pass then stop: the door swings open, the sheets stir; the words don’t come, but thoughts of everyone. Now a hand comes across and stops you—it is mine. Lover, you made the choice.