lost bags

All songs arranged by Dead Cat in a Bag

Luca Swanz Andriolo: vocals (all tracks), backing and bass vocals (track 13), harmonica (6, 12), resophonic guitar (2, 6), acoustic guitar (13), prepared guitar (3, 7, 8), slide guitar (2), toy guitar (7), banjo (5, 6, 7, 10, 11), mandolin (4, 5, 6, 12, 14), concertina (1), harmonium (1, 5, 6), melodeon (1, 5), chimesphone (8), violin and bowed strings (4, 11), drums (2), shakers (12), percussions (10), cookie-tin banjolaika (14), stomps & claps (13)

Roberto Abis: electric guitar (tracks 3, 5, 8, 10, 12, 13), acoustic guitar (2), nylon-string guitar (12), bass (2), banjo (12), mandolin (6), slide bouzouki (13), minimoog (3, 8, 13), organ (10), piano (2, 10), synth strings, Chamberlin, mellotron and various treated MIDI keyboards (3, 5, 7, 8, 10, 12), field recordings, sound treatment and electronics (1, 11, 12, 14), barroom vocals (13), stomps & claps (13)

Luca Iorfida: accordion (tracks 5, 6), piano (11), Rhodes piano (10), vibes (10), toy organ (14), acoustic guitar (13), bouzouki (6), electric double bass (10), drums (10), vocals (13), stomps & claps (13)

Andrea Bertola: violin (tracks 2, 5, 6, 10, 12)

Ivan Bert: flugelhorn (track 3), trumpet: (5, 10, 12), orchestration (9)

Marcello Caudullo: electric guitar (track 5), cigar-box guitar (11)

Gian Luca Mondo: acoustic guitar (track 6)

Marco Piccirillo: upright bass (tracks 3, 8), bowed bass (3)

Sebastiano D’Amico: bass (track 5)

Fabrizio Ronco: Wurlitzer (track 10)

Massimo Ferrarotto: drums & percussions (tracks 8, 12)

Diego Manca Mura: drums (track 5), stomps & claps (13)

Antonello Aloise: harmonium (track 11)

Lorenzo “Lord Theremin” Giorda: theremin (track 10)

The Artchestra Orchestra: strings and brass (track 9)

Lamberto Curtoni: alto sax

Marco Mirta: viola

Alberto Borio: trombone

Maurizio Rosa: baritone sax

Gianni Denitto: alto sax

Granma Yason: vocals (track 1)

Liam McKahey: backing and supporting vocals (track 13)


All songs published by Viceversa Publishing (2011)

All rights reserved.


Lost Bags (Viceversa Records)

  1. Last Train Home
  2. Wasteground of your lips
  3. Wither
  4. A Rose & a Knife
  5. The Stow-Away Song ( a Sea Shanty)
  6. The Gipsy Song
  7. Leapiz
  8. I Can’t Row No More
  9. No Lust Left
  10. Sleeping fields
  11. Dawn
  12. Old Dog
  13. Zbohom
  14. Lost bags

Last Train Home


Wasteground of your lips

I spent all of my kisses
On the wasteground of your lips
Now I walk on a deserted shore
Spending what is left of me
Nothing to keep anymore
New songs of old misery

I’ve been laughing with thieves
You’ve been lying with them
You use to show your naked body
To the starving dog that I am
You did trample on the flower
You did smash down its stem

All the beauty and lies
Are bound to fade out in the end
You betrayed all of your lovers
And no-one can call you a friend
I will take my pride back
As long as I’ll be able to stand

Well I paid every breath
And I carried my cross
I could love you to death
Now I can face the loss
In the deep of my soul
You mean nothing to me
I’ll pay you your wage
Won’t you please let me be.

I cried all of my tears
On the frozen cellar of your heart
I sang my best words
Your silence tore me apart
But now I’m quite better
Just take a look at me
I‘ll bury your rusty ring
Kiss your dead cat
And set myself free.


Oh, life
From Nothing to Nothing
All the way through this Too Less
Don’t be surprised
Don’t be surprised
If I keep staring at your breast.

Oh well,
It looks like it’s always too late
Young girls sit in the sun
Waiting for another date.

Oh my
You’re going to wither
You’re going to wither
Although you’re not a rose.

Keep talking to me
I don’t really care what you say
Just a reminder
To forget someday.
Keep talking to me
I don’t really care what you may say
It’s just a reminder
To be forgotten someday.

A Rose & a Knife

What I know I always knew.
I wanted to be a kid
Acting as an old tramp.
To live with a rose and a knife
And a tattoo.
What I know I always knew.
I wish I was an old tramp
Acting as a kid.
A knife and a tattooed rose
And enough sky in my eyes.
But I know what I always knew
And I fear the rose and I fear the knife
And I hate the sky and I close my eyes.
You get bored with your tattoo.

The Stow-Away Song ( a Sea Shanty)

I only know that slowly from the inside
This evil thing’s taken over the ship.
Now the disease is mounting like a tide,
And our ship is just a relic on the tide…

And up, above our flag
Waves a yellow rag
It doesn’t need any explanation:
It means contagion,
It means damnation.

So if somebody sights our ship
He’d better point his figure-head to other waters
And let us die this way, adrift
Screaming at the sky and cursing our mothers.

There is no mermaid singing for us
The only sound is our supplication
And the sick-wind blowing’ thru our sails
Sowing into the sea the bloody infection!

It’s the captain speaking, it’s me
The condemned fool who rules the crew
Of madmen, plague and sodomy
Staring at the stow-away: you.

And instead of our flag
It waves, a yellow rag
It doesn’t need any explanation:
It means
Woman… contagion… lust…
syphilis… mutiny…. damnation!

The Gipsy Song

I’m sorry about the ring
But you see, I don’t like gold
You never wore the gown I gave you
And now the air is getting cold.
I haven’t words to say
Except that isn’t worth a dime
It must end right this way
We’re gonna pay for every crime

But if I were a gipsy
I’d take my chances far away
I’d play my violin, I’d drink my wine
I wouldn’t have any reason to stay

There is nothing left to lose
No love enough to sing a song
I feel sick from my hat down to my shoes
Nothing left to say, when it’s all that wrong

And if I were a sailor
I would sail far away
I’d laugh with the girls ‘round the port
In different cities everyday

And if I were a circus man
I would wear a big tattoo
And maybe in the summer evenings
I’d be missing



I Can’t Row No More

I can’t row no more
I can’t row no more
My little boat is going adrift
Far away from any shore

My arms ache, my legs are sore
There’s nothing else for me to do
So I’m lying down on my back
My eyes lost in this sky so blue

I can’t row no more
I can’t row no more
My little boat is going adrift
Far away from any shore

I’ll float away like a memory
I’ll just disappear from view, away
The tide is so strong, the river’s so wide
There so time for me to pray

The water rocks my cradle
As to the falls I’m bound
The waves hold my coffin
There isn’t any hold to be found

I can’t row no more
I can’t row no more
I surrender to the flowing
Far away from any shore.

No Lust Left

Still some friends will come a–calling
For a booze and a good time
Smiles blooming, tears a–falling
There is no lust left.

Again those dreams will weave on
With bare beauty and hotel rooms
The dog will bark out for his bone
There is no lust left.

And still Spring will make its claim
With laughing girls in their light clothes
Still the sky will be to blame
There is no lust left.

We can always measure our greed
Dream and pretend our love again
We can speak out loud our need
There is no lust left.

You can complain that you’re alone
Or get a hundred one night stands
But buddy that feeling is gone.
There is no lust left.

Still life will lead ahead
To that hill that wears a cross
Still death will wait instead
There is no lust left.

Summer day, cloud, blonde grass
Redheaded waitress, evening breeze
Pretty eyes, beautiful ass
There is no lust left.

No lust left.

Sleeping fields

Sleeping fields
Grey and forgotten
‘Tween the junkyard and the hills.
Sleeping fields
Lie downtrodden
So dry and so lost.
Burnt by the sun
Buried by the frost.
Sleeping fields.
Broken glasses and weeds,
And old tires in the dust,
In a sunset of rust.
Sleeping fields.
Like a graveyard of Hope
In your empty cans’ dreams
I go walking around.
I’ll lay my memories
Down in thee.



Old Dog

An old dog: expert or accustomed to anything (Francis Grose, The Vulgar Tongue).

I’m an old dog
I’m an old dog
I’m an old dog

At it.



Lost bags

I’m spending my days
Like the last small change
Buying silly souvenirs.

Someone will find them someday
Broken in my lost bag.

These hours are grey sand.
It feels like
Petting a dead cat.

The blanket’s so cold.
My hat is sore.
My shoes are filled with rain.

I’ve got wet feet again.
I lost my matches again.
It’s autumn again.
I’ve got wet feet again.