I got a job making money for the man, throwing chicken
in a bucket with a soda pop can. Puke green uniform on
my back. I had to set it on fire in the vat of chicken
fat. I leaped on the counter like a bird with no hair
Running through the mini-mall in my underwear. I got lost
downtown, couldn't find a ride home. The sun went down.
I got frozen to the bone 'till a hooker let me share her
fake fur coat. As I took a little nap, the cops picked up
us both. I tried to explain I was only trying to get warm.
I knew I never ever should've burned my uniform. He said,
"Too bad. Better bite the bullet hard, son." I didn't
have no teeth, so I stole his gun. I crawled out the
window with my shadow and a spoon. Dancing on the roof,
shooting holes in the moon.
I aint gonna work for no soul suckin' jerk. I'm gonna
take it all back and I aint sayin' jack.
I'm standing right here with a beer in my hand and my
mouth is full of sand and I don't understand. Fourteen
days, I've been sleeping in a barn. Headache and a paycheck
tattoed on my arm. Whistling dixie with the dixie cup filled
with the barbeque sauce and the dental floss chilled.
Big fat finger pointing into my face, telling me to get
busy cleaning up this place. I got bent like a wet cigerette,
and she's coming after me with a butterfly net. Riding
on a bloodhound, ringing a bell. Black cat wrapped in a
road map of Hell. Pencil in my leg and I'm trying not
to beg. Taking turns making worms with the bacon and eggs.
Now they got me in a birdcage, flapping my jaw like a
pretzel in the stars just waiting to fall. So give me
what I got to get so I can go 'cause I aint washing
dishes in the ditch no more.
Rockin' the town like a moldy crouton. Flying through
the air with the breeze.
Josh Spurling - bass, guitar, drums, vocals
Recorded November 1995 - November 2003