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1. |
Ladson
03:30
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We named our children after hurricanes
We didn't know better; we thought that we were funny
You said my songs start to sound the same
They don't make you happy; they don't make money
Got a punching bag in the living room
There's a toilet on the lawn, a bed in the kitchen
The Buick out back is an empty tomb
Could use a little laugh, could use a little fiction
That's how it goes
When you live your life in Ladson
Lay down your goals
There's no use in getting mad, son
You moved upstate just to come back down
You met a pretty girl; you went and got her pregnant
You can't keep a secret for long in that town
Her daddy found you out; he gave you a reckoning
Then you lost the mobile home in a hurricane
You picked your family up and moved back to Ladson
Got the whole famn damily in my living room
I'm dreading Sunday church; I'm dreading their reaction
That's how it goes
When you live your life in Ladson
Lay down your goals
There's no use in getting mad, son
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2. |
Nightsmoke
03:36
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All the vinyl siding, all the chlorophyll sticking
My red neck in the yellow light, the wasp-nesting roof-blight
The pressure washer moans dumb; my arms are too sickly
The day-saving sundown, the green stain to my shirt white
If you wanna do it right, write this down while it's still bright
The pepper-weed puller's been burning the night light
Drip soot water down the chimneyfluenza
The nightsmoke 'til daybreak, my moon-cratered couchsleep
Swallow cubicle soot to my co-work credenza
A sun-seeking dawn-drawn deliberate drag-heap
I'm in the next room
Keeping watch over nothing all night
All the sad songs, all the magazine clippings
Are fuel for the nightfire that burns in my chest
The pressure cooker hot throb, my tonguescrews a-slipping
I fumfer a free verse at the freeway's behest
My feculent fog-mind deciding what's best
In dreams I am a monster and awake I'm a mess
Drip soot water down the chimneyfluenza
The nightsmoke 'til daybreak, my moon-cratered couchsleep
Swallow cubicle soot to my co-work credenza
A sun-seeking dawn-drawn deliberate drag-heap
I'm in the next room
Keeping watch over nothing all night
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3. |
Strange Justice
02:38
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Having sought out blemishes in the
Passover Lamb, I found none
Having sought out truth in the
Matter of this man, I found none
People have a strange sense of justice, and I
Have a strange sense for death
I've spilled a lot of blood on the ground in my time and never
Found any justice yet
I'm only a judge in a backwater 'cause I
Married the king's granddaughter
Now she's restless, it seems, with a plague of dreams
About a lamb led to the slaughter
Having seen the evidence, I'm still
Fearful of a restless few
They'll have my head and the streets run red if I don't
Do what they ask me to
So if you're gonna do it, go and do it yourself
I wash my hands of this
I find no fault in this man whose brother
Delivered him with a kiss
Well, I keep the peace in this town, but I can't
Keep any peace in my heart
The more I seek the truth and try to wrestle it down, the more I
End at the place where I start
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4. |
Traveler's Rest
02:53
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It's a hot one in the Lowcountry tonight
Got a hundred dollar bill that says he's coming home
O grave, if you hold him, won't you hold him tight?
O highway, if you teach him, teach him not to roam
Where, oh, where've you run to now?
Where are you?
Well, I'm tearing down the Interstate,
And I've not resigned your fate to fate
Well, I trust you're doing well
But your leaving's opened up my door to Hell
Bet it's hot in Houston
Bet it's awful pretty
In the fall in Asheville
Or in Johnson City
Bet it's dead in Franklin
Now the mill is closing
Bet it's stark in Lawtey
Bet it's nice in Bozeman
Bet you got it made in Macon
Bet you're doing better
Bet it's grand in Goose Creek
Caught a movie in Monetta
Bet it's cold in Greenville
Or is it Travelers Rest?
Hope you've found your own self
Hope you're warmly dressed
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5. |
Cash
02:50
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Larry drove around town in his meat truck
Knock knock!
Gotta try the ribeye
Feeling down, feeling down on his luck until he
Pulled up!
To a trailer on the Southside
Big old Mexican man in the doorway
Sí, sí!
Reached into his pocket
Pulled out a fat wad of
Cash
You never know
You never know
Who's got cash
Who's got money
Crystal walked up to the tall truck window
Knock knock!
I'd like to make you feel good
It'll cost you a little
Cash
Man flicked a little ash in the ashtray
He thought!
You know, I earned it
I've earned a little
Cash
Human beings
Get bought and sold
All day
All day
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The Camellias North Charleston, South Carolina
Ragged folk songs for hard modern times.
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