by Sean Jones, Cajun

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Desert, psychadelic stoner rock. Stoned, sci-fi doom. Retro weed-metal. psychadonkulous-... I don't know. Its heavy, and I was thinking of the desert when I wrote it. There's pictures of the desert on the cover, so there you go.

In memory of Warrick Fister: 11/28/1995 - 10/2/2016


released October 11, 2016

Written, performed, recorded, and mixed by Sean Jones
Mastered by the Auto Audio Mastering System
Original photos courtesy of Maegan E. Hickey



all rights reserved


Sean Jones, Cajun Charlotte, North Carolina

I'm just a guy that enjoys making music that pushes my boundaries. Hopefully it pushes yours too.

For the love of god, don't take me seriously

I expect fame, fortune, and, most of all, female consorts.

Please let me
know what you think at www.facebook.com/seanjonescajun/!
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Track Name: White Chalk Caravan
They walk across the white-chalk
Desert-laden sand
Above eyes glistens moon-rock
Sun-soaked blackened Rand

The seeker knows the Fields are drying
His pilgrimage might be in vain
Heat of Mangus evaporating
The Latex-Love blister death lain

He reached the prophets hilltop

The bees made honey in the tattered bones of those who'd gone before
They're no more
The face-snaked of those among them wished to turn back to the shore
They feared lore

"There's no promise of gold in these Hills
Seek not the temptations of truth-in-all
There is wisdom in nickel laden hands
Follow the thunderous sound born of Sunns"
This he said speaking of ritual, then pressed on.
Track Name: Holy Dune
The white chalk turns black as the blood
of the gods in bloom
As they neared the most sacred site
at the top of Holy Dune

and they prayed

"Let the Wildfire Sunrise come alive this day, for the ground dries in it's stead"

The New Medium rises in the distance

Its all, its all over
New God, new moral compass
Freedom is all extinguished
Where shall we go reverent?
How shall we tell right from wrong,
If there's a contradiction?

There's no, there's no new meaning
There's no, there's no new meaning
Its just the same as before
Its just the same as before
There's no, there's no new meaning
There's no, there's no new meaning
There's no, there's no new meaning
There's no, there's no new meaning

Seeker set fire
Beneath feet
Serpent desire

The seeker turns to those who follow, tar rock in hand
They ask him for the wisdom of the useless land
As a rule of lawful order, he tells them all a lie
And in a bid for greater pension, he tells them all to die

They understand not mysticism, and beg for the plain
The seeker tells them nothing, but their efforts are not in vain

Nothing could have come of it

The land was dry
All was let burn