Written by Joel Harkin & Ciaran Lavery
Recorded, Mixed & Produced by George Sloan at Half Bap Studios
Mastered at Aye Sound Mastering
Artwork by Aaron Cunningham
Joel Harkin - Vocals, Guitar, Pedal Steel Guitar
Dan Monaghan - Bass, Trumpet
Niall Laverty - Mandolin
George Sloan - Drums
Nicole Harper - Vocals
Ciaran Lavery - Vocals, Synthesizer
Neil Óg Martin - Cello
Hey George I’m in Warsaw, you can tell by this postcard JoAnn gets the credit, it was her that told me to send it Now we’re spending the funny money, eating alfresco Every morning the sun appears like a damn tv special and I’m thumbing through the paper and who do I see? But old George and the headline “STAR WARS AND ME” I grab JoAnn by the wrist, yelling “honey, you’ll never believe” She’s so proud of you and me
It’s been three weeks back in Prescott, I’m under the weather So I thought it was opportune to write you this letter I read your Rolling Stone interview, man, that’s really something’ Did you have any idea this would take off so sudden? Last night I dreamt that we were on with Johnny Carson and Jimmy Carter appeared wearing a stormtrooper costume I woke up still laughing, and the room was empty and cold and something touched my soul
Ah George you know I’m happy for you, no-one deserves it more Sometimes I feel a little left behind I know you’d understand if you could see it from where I am or maybe I’m delirious from all of these prescription drugs In that case, jeez, disregard this please
Hey George do you mind when we formed an alliance of galactic importance outside political science UCLA dripping and us downing the spirits A new way to live away from new york minutes And in the small hours, our pens kissing paper Dreaming up blasters black suits, ventilators Forget the IP, the scripts all the work we put in, and there was still something
Thinking on it now, I wonder how could I be so naive? A twist in the third? But I can’t tell If you’ve ever thought about it, extend the olive branch Instead of sitting on your own in a lonely private cowboy ranch and if it feels like hell, that's just as well
Look I’ll be honest, I feel drunk as I write this But lately I’m struggling to see clearly or focus I feel like I’m haunted or being goaded by billboards It used to fill me with pride but now, not doing so good George Last week I met Barney, he was out on vacation slapping my back saying “this movie’s amazing” how he “can’t believe our old pal Georgie could create such a hit” And that I “have to see it”
Because like it or not my name won’t be synonymous with yours And it can really weigh me down I’m angry and embarrassed about being angry in the first place Drank so much bourbon like I’m out to win some fucking race I’m not myself and I could really use your help
JoAnn I’ve been thinking, does George even know me Did I ever know him or was it just the Codeine?