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Monday, 31 October 2016

Face on TV

Baby, we did it
We made it over the State Line
In this jet black convertible
With the white stripes down the side
We got beers in the footwell
We got drugs in the trunk
We got a suitcase full of someone else's money
And we're crazy in love

When I was growing up everybody said
"If you don't end up in porn or prison, you'll probably wind up dead"
I wonder what them folks are thinking now that they see
That this kid's got his name in the paper
And his face on TV

Back at the motel
We're knocking back shots
You're waving that handgun around
Loaded with your shirt off
And I don't know why I did it
But I turned on the TV
And there's a high-school photo and your real name
Right next to a picture of me

When I was growing up everybody said
"If you don't end up in porn or prison, you'll probably wind up dead"
I wonder what them folks are thinking now that they see
That this kid's got his name in the paper
And his face on TV

So now we're on the run
And life's a little tough
Sometimes we rob diners for tip jars
But we're still crazy in love
We swapped the car out at a truck-stop
Raided a few of the trucks
I still get a thrill when we're working
And somebody recognizes us



Distinctly Average

You want me to write you a song
From a title that you just thought up...

You'll probably find I ain't up to the challenge
'Special' ain't something I can easily manage
Like a cold first date or a loveless marriage
This song's gonna be distinctly average

All my songs have got a little bit of a sadness
This one's got a rhythm to it like we should be dancing'
I could bore the cottontails off of all the rabbits
But the rabbits won't give time of day 'cos they say they don't have it
Peppers and potatoes make an omelette kinda Spanish
Your pepper'll get pickled if you stick it in a bad fridge
When I'm done writing this song I think I'm gonna scrap it
'Cos it's distinctly average

Average, mundane,
Normal, plain,
Boring, banal,
Nothing at all...

The words are kinda workin' and they're wrapped up in a package
Of a boho hobo's guitar jangling
Stompin' my foot 'til the floorboards' damaged
I'll rip 'em and relay 'em with this hammer that I brandish
Finished laying floor I'm gonna make myself a sandwich
Cheese and ham and bread and pickle, little bit of radish
Ranch dip, chilli sauce man I'm gonna ram it
Down into my belly because good-god I'm ravished
This song's over now and I ain't braggin'
But it was distinctly average

Thursday, 13 October 2016

Hard Work

They own the culture and the counter-culture
They feed you all your trends
They're the pistol shots at the start of every revolution
And they're still there when it ends

Your bid for freedom was predicted even orchestrated
By the same chains that got you bound
If prison guards want something to shoot at
They just plan a break-out

Hard work's only hard work when you're working
Working smart ain't working hard at all
They say life's sweet up there on top of the pile, but from down here
It just looks like a long way to fall

They say the poor are a burden on the working man
And point their fingers at those working the hardest
They drain the blood of the art scenes and music
Parading through the streets with the corpses of the artists

They told the princesses to stop kissing frogs
They dried the lake and closed the dog pound
Now these strays ain't got nowhere to go
Except dumpsters and the cold, cold ground

Hard work's only hard work when you're working
Working smart ain't working hard at all
They say life's sweet up there on top of the pile, but from down here
It just looks like a long way to fall

They bought all the rebels and the outlaws
And those that couldn't be bought, they shot
Martin Luther King was assassinated by the CIA
9/11 was an inside job

I don't know how to fix this mess
I'm just a wino whining for a bottle
I'm food for worms, I got one foot in the grave
And I'm looking for rent money to borrow

I'm a misfit and an outcast
I'm the piece of the puzzle you think you lost
Congratulating yourself cos you're almost done
But I was never even in the box

When the farmer left the gate open
I'm the horse that jumped the fence
He retired on the insurance pay
And I rode off into the sunset

But when your feeling lost or pointless
When that hollow blackness grows in your heart
Look for wild horses near the horizon at twilight
They're eating prison guards