It May be Blue but it's the Bomb (Single)

by Ironic Maiden

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This single is the first release since Ironic Maiden made the musical decision to focus on a heavy rock sound.

The main track draws its inspiration from the TV series "Breaking Bad". It has a stronger blues feel than most Ironic Maiden tunes but, just like the pure methamphetamine cooked by Mr White, it may be blue but it's the bomb.

The B-side, Left Bower, is a live recording. This song is about the ominous and unexpected.


released October 17, 2016

Produced by Van Leucia Productions (VLP)
Performed by Ironic Maiden
Written by Zac Anderson



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Ironic Maiden Sydney, Australia

Ironic Maiden are a heavy rock trio: Zac Anderson (guitar and vocals)
Siebe Pogson (bass)
Jess Kesby (drums)

Ironic Maiden play all original music. Their influences include early metal, classic rock, blues, folk, funk and classical.

Since releasing their EP, they have played live around Sydney and focused on a heavy rock sound influenced by their 1980s hard rock/heavy metal interests.
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Track Name: It May be Blue but it's the Bomb
It may be blue but it's the bomb
come on Tuco you know it's true
it may be blue but it's the bomb

Run from things or face them, Mr White
come on Walt you know it's right
Run from things or face them, Mr White

(Tight, tight, tight, tight!)

Hallucinations, chills down my spine
I'm seeing visions, getting high
I see a man in his car, sitting unarmed
His phone starts to ring, "You have one minute they're coming"

A shot from behind, I'm ready for you,
Run over you backwards, while the bullets continue.
An invincible man, with a torso of steel
he raises his gun, "this is too easy"

Debilitated, lying on the floor
reload the black death, hollow point bullet
one shot to kill him, one place to aim
cock the gun on your chest, the axe comes down...
Track Name: Left Bower (Live in Studio)
Like a jester with no tears,
like a ruler with no fears,
like an equalising goal at the end of extra time -

lightning strikes and thunder rolls,
your hands slip off the controls,
when you hear rumours of war and love starts to grow cold

Like the left bower
in your opponent’s hand,
eleventh hour,
black as the night, nothing going as planned

When you look up at the sky
and the birds have started to fly,
when the vultures gather round
something lying on the ground,

when you’re watching someone die
and you silently stand by,
when you try to raise your head and it’s buried in the sand