We’ve updated our Terms of Use to reflect our new entity name and address. You can review the changes here.
We’ve updated our Terms of Use. You can review the changes here.

Patron Saint Of Disappointment

by Small Arms Dealer

  • Digital Album
    Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    Purchasable with gift card

      $8 USD  or more

    You own this


  • More Music by Small Arms Dealer

there's nothing inside besides what we let in. as we dance on the edge of the armageddon. we can run, we can hide, we can try to survive. or roll back our eyes and die with a smile. our fingertips grasp the ledge, if we let go. i guess you get to say i told you so. but i don't believe what you believe so what happens to me? spit it out or shut your mouth, right now
Who Farted? 03:33
we need a catalyst, i'm not a stock market analyst. but i get a bright idea from time to time. i don't believe in a grand design. morals and faith are hard to define. our differences are focused upon. we've had common ground all along. let's keep science in the classroom. leave jesus in the tomb. let's worship the moon. at least we know it's there. and we know it doesn't care. about a single fucking thing we do. i don't think in quite the same way that you do. but keep it out of my face and we're cool. and if not then fuck you and fuck all of your friends too. but believe me when i say, that i don't care. which direction that you pray. or in who's name, please believe. that a prayer for me. is one prayer made in vain. let's put ethics in the boardroom. let's leave noah out at sea. my church is the street. there is no god. just my friends and me. and no one has to die for our beliefs. and no one goes to hell if they disagree. i know the difference, what's right or wrong. that can't be taught with a firebomb. leave yaweh out of it. leave allah out of it. leave buddah out of it. pass it on. oh my god. what are the odds?. place your bets. we'll find out when we're dead. when they say that god's above. and they tell you hell's beneath. they're la la la la lying through their teeth. but who am i to question their beliefs?
03. Small Arms Dealer Makes Baby Jesus Cry knife fight! we're gonna party like it's friday night. stoplight! i'm leaving through the windshield tonight. we're just looking for fun. we're not leaving till we're covered in blood. just point me to the drugs. i'll handle this. it's gonna be a blood bath. it makes sense if you do the math. it's you and me and the booze is free. don't hail me a cab. just order a bodybag. the night has just begun. if we end up at the end of a gun. then my work here is done. or i’m full of shit (can't tell which is which). we're just looking for fun. we're not leaving till we're covered in blood. just point me to the drugs. i'll handle this. oh my god! there's a car burning on the lawn. what the fuck? you think you know what's going on? you think you do but. you'd be fucking wrong. it's gonna be a blood bath. it makes sense if you do the math. it's you and me and the booze is free. don't hail me a cab. just order a bodybag
i remember the headaches the swelling and the staircase. the nights when sleep would never come. my outrage is abundant, facetious, redundant. i long for a punchline that never comes. so i'll sit and wait. in this very spot. 'til my dying day. give or take. i've got faith. but i won't believe. no matter what you say. think again, amen! have you noticed the earthquakes, the bloodshed and the heartache. a mother's prayer to spare her only son. who answers? it's not him, it's no one, it's nothing. the hand of fate that never was. so i'll sit and wait. and when the time has come. to step in my grave. i won't hesitate. i've got faith. but i can't believe. a fucking word you say. not again, amen! sometimes i just get terrified. to scared to open up my eyes. i had to watch my father die. yet you'll pay a man to prophesize. well it should come as no surprise. when i kick in the door and come inside. pull up a chair and speak my mind. you've said your piece. now listen to mine. i'll sit and wait. until you've got the guts. to come and conversate. face to face. i've got faith but get that book. out of my fucking face. i won't ask again. amen. remember the headaches
check the mirrors, lock the doors. put the pedal to the floor. to the coast or to the store. let's get the fuck out of here. boredom grows, cashflow don't. this town is a ghost, a sinking boat. one more candle, one more wish unfulfilled. one more door than before, one less reason to live. the truth is this, we're running for our lives. fighting fang and fist, our crime is simply choosing to exist. be it quick or slow, we're on death row. go! check the clock, time's running out. the fire's dying, put it out. spin the tires, back it out. let's get the fuck outta here. it's getting old, this getting old. let's hit the road, shrug off this heavy load. sometimes just standing still feels like some kinda hell. through sheer force of will, we will prevail. the truth is this, we're running for our lives. fighting fang and fist, we simply cannot refuse to exist. we'll use what we know, escape the hang man's rope
we are law. we are the conscience of the battlefield. we are righteous and unbending steel. this our will for good or ill. the hammer we are forced to wield. we are every corruption. we are unchained destruction. we are the mothers and wives. the fathers and children who've died. for the wealth of another. we are the sum. of misdeeds done in our name. why call it change if its still the same? we're just pawns, we can play along. or we can change the game. we are the hood, the rope that binds. we are the blood-stained suit and tie. we are birds of a feather. we are in this together. now and forever. this is the sound. of the whole world. going down
how much more can i take? my only thought as i wake. a new sunrise to blind me. guts burn and churn like the sea. days bleed into weeks. time clock's made a ghost outta me. i don't wanna whine. and it ain't about the fucking money. it's just a waste of my time. if i don't get nothing from it. you can pay me to work until i bleed. but you can't change this undeniable need. to do what i love, to be what i wanted to be. no more sweet dream. the alarm clock screams. and pushed me onto unwilling feet. i fight my way through one more day. until i'm back in bed and do it all over again. in the end what do i get? a blank stare and a paycheck. we are not what we do. we are not what they put us through
we've been through some shit. i think we've seen the worst of it. they try and try but they can't hurt us any more. we got upset at first. now we smile 'til it hurts. and we laugh harder than we ever have before. we've been given a gift. the least we can do is this: let's die happy. making friends hand over first. as we crumble into dust. will they remember us? let's use these hearts of gold. and love until they explode. it's your call, it's your dime, cuz right now is our time. we can't die of thirst. if we drink 'til we burst. it's ok, it's allright, at least in our minds. half full, half empty, who's pouring, who's drinking. power is fleeting, perspective is the sweetest thing
tired, exhausted by the thought of it. trying, simply just to wash my hands of this. but who's to believe. when complacency and naivete. are making a fool of me. i'm misinformed, i'm searching for. the world that lies between the lies. the truth it hurts, it's been true since birth. confounded, dizzied by the weight of this. determined, just to make some fucking sense of it. and now i believe. that arrogance and intolerance. are taking their toll on me. so pick the locks. unchain the box. smoke and mirror reflection. it's all misdirection. (struggle) to find out all the facts. (reason) to think before we act. (treason) to take out freedom back. not to fear but to react. to those who'd justify. the forfeit of a million lives. we're all sleeping safe tonight. the war on drugs/terror/etc. is working right? i'm misinformed, i'm searching for. the world that lies between the lies. the truth it hurts, it's been true since birth. they've been ignored, now they're in for. an argument the cannot win. the truth be told. the truth be gold
forget the past, the fuse is lit and all i ask. just let me burn these churches and dance in ash. in a hail of stained glass. i'll take that chance, i've faced my faith and its fading fast. this blood on my hands good or bad. god or man. act like an animal. attack like an animal. you're expecting me. to get on my knees. before his golden throne. made of blood and bone. but i won't. fear the intangible. be so gullible. it's terrible. what this so called word can do! is this what you call good news? i'll call no one my lord. if he were real he would applaud. and if not i say fuck 'em. (fuck you) (and fuck them too). i'd rather burn when i die. than serve a tyrant in the sky. at least i'll still have my pride
Augie Doggy 03:16
i know it's been a while. since we've had a talk. ya know, a man to man. a real heart to heart. i would call you. on the telephone. just to say hi. if you weren't dead. but you are, so i can't, so i don't. i could say a little prayer but i won't. just know that it's not your fault. that i ruin everything. since you've been away. i haven't had much to say. but one thing i need to know. are you still proud of me? when you were alive. i could make you smile. apple of your eye. we were two of a kind. you and i have made. all the same mistakes. you would tell me so. if you weren't dead. but you are and i'm not. i could even the score. it just takes one shot. but i won't. and when i get like that. i just think of you. yeah, i do that a lot. so here's my little note to you. it's something i needed to do. and know that i still love you. i don't know if i'll see you again. i hope i will someday. but i'll write this down in case. i just wanted you to know. that you were my everything. all my life, you were by my side. i'll do what's right and. make sure you're still proud of me
art is dead. let's devour the corpse of it. and we'll make. a beautiful piece of shit. and we'll get rich selling it. back to them. all of these words. all of these chords. all of these songs. have been sung before. egos are stroked. the process creative. genius becomes. the new word for asshole. it's all yours. something inspired it. let's not get. too fucking full of it. let's make a mess of it. it's a joke what it's become. it's no fun. ideas built on the backs. of those who built ideas. on the backs of the bold. pictures and words. this is harmony. this is the hook. this is a tragedy. this is a fuck, this is a fuck, this is a fuck, this is a fucking shame. fan the flames. who takes the rap for this. who's to blame? the consumer? the artist? the plague of the plagiarist? it is what it is. so don't read to much into it. the song's been sung before. so we will sing it once more. oh, have some fun. or don't
she's preparing for disaster. her fear has laid her bare. nightmares real and some imagined. in the end scared is scared. chin up little one. what you're afraid of will one day be afraid of us. so get some sleep, bare your teeth. show fear it's worthless here. it's nothing when we've got the guts. there's a feeling she gets in her heart. when all seems dark. but there's a light on in the hallway. the door's open a crack. if she gives in to the heartache. she can never take it back. but cheer up little one. what you're afraid of will never get the best of us. so take my hand, we can make a stand. we'll show fear who's boss 'round here. just have a little faith in us. self respect is a knife you can wield. take a stab at the heart of your fear. and just remember that when things get weird. even though there ain't a heaven above you baby. keep your chin up little one. what you're afraid of will one day be afraid of us. so get some sleep, bare your teeth. show fear it's worthless here. it's nothing when we've got the guts. just have a little faith in us
i will be. they took us from our homes. in the heavenlies. to a better life. not just a land. or so they said. of opportunity. i will be. are we the bastard? the bastard sons? in the heavenlies. forgotten by our ones. not just a land. they call us back home now. are we the bastard sons? stripped of all our pride. betrayed by our laws. segregated in our own lives. so would you look in my eyes? i see no dignity in this. to find a light to follow. why would you hurt me. into my mother's eyes i'll stare inside. if i yell we're the same? i didn't even know you. we seem to have lost all our pride. even though you had known me. and i heard your voice for the first time that day. can't you see it in our eyes? i didn't even realize. how much you have loved me. you were just waiting for me to choose life


Small Arms Dealer firmly believes that punk rock played with a raging fire in the belly is the very best kind of punk rock...easily digestible in large, combustible doses but guaranteed to leave you with that permanent, ever-so-worth-it feeling. And there's no indication that any member of this Long Island quintet is holding back one iota, writing songs that sound just as urgent and ferocious on their hundredth spin as they did on their first. Their sophomore full-length, Patron Saint of Disappointment, delivers sweat-drenched, clobbered in the face, punched in the gut, smacked in the ears, pissed off punk rock from a battle-wary crew including Jason Lubrano...who is in top cynical form, spitting lyrical venom in the collective faces of religion, politics, corporate America and even himself. Never before has a vocalist churned out such beautiful poetic poison...all with a mischievous smirk and a wink of the eye. The band echoes his war cries with gruff, throaty sing-along chants, guitars exploding with TNT force and a rhythm section pounding out just the right amount of octane. If there's any band that's going to be left standing after the apocalypse, it's gonna be Small Arms Dealer. There's more than enough guns-a-blazin' firepower, unforgettable melodies and devil-may-care attitude to handle four little ol' horsemen. This is one certifiably kick-ass record. Recorded by Phil Douglas of Latterman. (DER-462)

"If you imagine a combination of early Rise Against and Strike Anywhere, you may have some sense of the raw, melodically inclined punk rock spat out by Small Arms Dealer. The band shifts between raging, aggressive tracks railing against organized religion and the slower, thoughtful commentary on the human condition. There's a clear, overarching anti-religious message throughout Patron Saint of Disappointment. As long as no one puts them on tour with Underoath, Small Arms Dealer should do fine." - Alternative Press

"Bow your head and drop your knees to the floor for the Patron Saint of Disappointment, the latest from the underground punk rock poets and philosophers Small Arms Dealer. Back from the grave my favorite Dealer has returned with thirteen new songs of hopelessness, small towns, disappointment and tiny doses of hope. As dark a record as it sounds, Patron Saint of Disappointment tempers every song with a cutting sarcastic wit that somehow softens the blow. Instead of finishing the record and wanting to slit your wrists you find yourself wanting to take that knife and pin all your problems to the wall. There's something about melodic punk rock that pushes you through your ills. In a year that's seen shockingly few truly awesome punk records, I present you Patron Saint of Disappointment. Like a good Dealer, these guys have delivered once again. Thank your lucky stars and get into this." - Mammoth Press

"Deep Elm Records keeps churning out the hits. Small Arms Dealer's Patron Saint of Disappointment is certainly another proud notch in their solid punk records belt. Taking a page out of the Latterman book of passionate, rough-around-the-edges punk rock, most of the songs reach a point where they appear to be holding on by a thread before a rousing finale brings it all back in a multi-vocal blast of throat-tearing emotion. Songs like 'Small Arms Dealer Makes Baby Jesus Cry' possess some Rollins-era Black Flag kick while still maintaining a tight hold on hardcore's more melodic modern incarnation. Patron Saint is a compelling and original mix of modern punk elements." - Exclaim!

"Contrary to what the name might indicate to some, Small Arms Dealer does everything but disappoint with this awesome new album. The group comes out with guns blazing and shows no mercy on Patron Saint of Disappointment. The reckless, uncompromising style combines contagious melodies and meaningful lyrics to create no-bullshit punk rock. Small Arms Dealer happily lacks frills and schmaltziness, and each song surges forward with uncontainable passion and hard-hitting vocals. As with all good punk rock, this record needs to be listened to on a stereo with gigantic speakers and a room full of your friends. Hard-nosed, irrepressible energy explodes out of Patron Saint with every note and isn't for the faint of heart. These boys from Long Island emphatically declare their beliefs and make absolutely no apologies for it. Fans of Kid Dynamite, Bear Versus Shark or Good Riddance will find this band right up their alley. Small Arms Dealer makes the type of unabashed punk rock that I have come to know, love, and go nuts for, and all fans of punk rock should check this album out." - Delusions of Adequacy



released August 25, 2007


all rights reserved



Deep Elm Records

With nearly 280 releases in its catalog, fiercely independent Deep Elm Records continues to build a better label - one that operates for glory, not gold. Deep Elm is about bands and fans coming together as one and experiencing music's awesome ability to inspire, comfort and console. We're not just making music together, we're making history. Dream / Create / Record / Release - Now for 27 Years. ... more

contact / help

Contact Deep Elm Records

Streaming and
Download help

Redeem code

Report this album or account