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    Immediate download of 4-track album in your choice of 320k mp3, FLAC, or just about any other format you could possibly desire.

    Pay what you want! All your money will go directly to the band, who will put it right back into making more music. We suggest $5, but the power is yours!

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  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    This is the Labyrinths EP in compact disc form.

    Also includes immediate download of 4 track album in your choice of 320k mp3, FLAC, or just about any other format you could possibly desire.
    ships out within 10 days
    edition of 200 

      $5 USD

     

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about

Made in Philadelphia, PA in 2009.

credits

released January 7, 2010

Words and music by Steve Goldberg
Recorded and mixed by Bill Moriarty at American Diamond
Mastered by Alan Douches at West West Side Music

Steve Goldberg: Vocals, acoustic guitar, piano, glockenspiel
Griff Miller: Bass guitar, vocals, trombone, French horn
Patrick Crowling: Electric guitar, mandolin
Lem Pidlaoan: Drums, vibraphone
Seth Sheffler-Collins: Trumpet, organ
Joseph Arnold: Violin
Annie Frederickson: Cello

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Steve Goldberg and the Arch Enemies Philadelphia

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Track Name: The Ballad of Cherry Hill
I walk on the quiet streets of night time in this town
After all the billiard bars and theaters have shut down
I hear the midnight motors as they make their final rounds
I am alone, this is my own, I am at home

I walk on weary feet in the pale glow of this town
Watching artificial light pooling on the ground
Thinking of what I'd say to all the friends that aren't around
I am alone, this is my own, I am at home

I live among all the ones who get caught in the half-light of weekdays
Ah, those short shrift third shift brothers in arms
And even after I leave you my shadow will still haunt your doorways
In this land of lawns and burglar alarms

I walk to a broken beat in the white noise of this town
Waiting for the moonless night that'll find me outward bound
But at the furthest point from dawn my tired heart becomes unwound
I am alone, this is my own, I am at home
Track Name: Shutterbug
The more I tell my story
the less it feels like mine
just something that happened to someone
in a strange and ancient time

And how I wish the features
of my youth could be preserved
but they say that a man at fifty
has the face that he deserves

So put your camera down
it cannot save us now
cause a photograph is a lie
and we'll never be as young as we are tonight

They'll write a book about me
and it won't be very long
it'll say "He liked women and drinking.
He was here and now he's gone."

And I don't find it morbid
It doesn't make me cry
Because we wouldn't be nearly so lovely
if we didn't have to die

And hey there shutterbug
won't you give me some love?
cause there's none streaming down
from above
Track Name: The Garden of Forking Paths
You were a friend and I was an enemy
I was a ghost or a trick of your memory
I was a scholar and I was a spy
I saved your life and I left you to die
There is no future and there is no past
here in the garden of forking paths

I've been a soldier and I've been a priest
I've seen the bombers, the blood in the street
I've slept under awnings in Argentine slums
steeling my soul for the judgment to come
The killing is slow but the dying is fast
here in the garden of forking paths

Billions of lives
the earth, the sea, the sky
and all their fates decided by
the wings of a butterfly

I'll pull the trigger and I'll feel the wound
I'll lay the bricks and I'll lay in the tomb
I'll be the jury, I'll be the accused
I'll look at you like there's nothing to lose
I've searched for so long but I found you at last
here in the garden of forking paths
Track Name: Things I Used to Know
The old wooden swingset where we used to play
the scent of the autumn in eastern PA
the taste of your skin at the end of the day
oh, I hate to seem them go

The play of the moon on the skin of the lake
the song of the birds that would nudge us awake
the lay of your hair and the curve of your face
oh, the things I used to know

why can't I keep them here with me?
I see them still like last night's dreams
and what becomes of the memories
when we stop remembering?

Wind in the leaves on the first day of school
the sting of chlorine in the Willowdale pool
they're fading according to time's awful rules
oh, I wish that it weren't so

Save my house and save my room!
save the lake and save the moon!