Lyrics

(Written and produced by Steven Clark)
Steven Clark - Music / Voice

I want to eat your fingernails

I want to fuck your chances

I want to roll your hack-dacky

I want to dance a mean tango in wide open spaces

I want to stop imitating life and be more than a witness

I want to live in the pick-up truck with my dogs and my notebooks full of infidels, Louie Beach, Swan, Crow Shoeham, Big Jack Ferko, Lola, Rosie, and Scoochy Face. I’m already an expatriate in my native land.

Nightly, a ritual, I slowly commit Gin-O-Cide sometimes pulling a gun on myself three dollars to my name

Endure

Skid up to the bar, a human crab bucket

- Noisy Bar / Rock & Roll country version -
I breeze in hungry for some. Anything with a pulse. Fish or fowl. Smash and grab. Drag and shag. Smash and dash.

Raucous bar crowd like a demolition derby. Stink-ass-blood-money - Booze and madness by the pound. Alcohol, testosterone and adrenalin, a blood-tide of filth in a hurricane of narcissism.

Somehow the dumb keep getting prouder.

9 to 5 factory freaks cruising for a boozing in the hot-rod meat yard.

Rag-and-Bone men all hopped up on truck stop dick pills and drugstore body spray. They all have their snouts in the troth and yet few are fed. For most life is a marathon of inches with no finish-line except death and they will struggle and hold on to their little patch of nothing as they limp over.

Low mental bandwidth, the whole world is off kilter but I am five by five

There alone in the back, a gamey train-wreck in a turtleneck with amazing cheekbones. The pigs have begun to circle from a distance, their tail feathers are on full display, glances, glares, and nods beg to be noticed. They are noticed and they are silently rebuffed.

I can use a scalpel or a sledgehammer whatever in takes but it must be forthwith so I approach…

“Hi there, that’s a very flattering blouse you’re sporting…”

“Wow, thanks!” she says

We breeze out

Cheekbones wouldn’t let me wear a rubber…

“I have latex allergies.”

“Sometimes the juice is worth the squeeze”, I mutter from the caboose

Vanilla tears

She seems to radiate and vibrate and I want to use her name but still don’t know it. We’re on the same sheet of music I think and she could be the one. I could look at that face for the rest on my life.

“I’d rather be here with you right now than to be with the kindest most beautiful woman in the world,” I tell her, and right then I mean it.

She forces a polite uninterested laugh, I see the clock in her head counting down the minutes as I just crossed an emotional no-no line. I just played a poor hand badly and no matter what happens somebody will find a way to take it too seriously.

“I have a seven dog, he’s not home right now, he’s at a friend’s house, so you can’t meet him today because I take my pleasure seriously” I say.

Suddenly the room is different, she tells me that I’m insane and then screams insane things at me

“Honey when you’re 100% man, you’re all man. That there is a chi-neez paw-verb,” I retort naked and spread eagle from on top of the sticky covers.

Like a flipped switch her tone settles and she is again cold and numb. A reset button she found in childhood.

“We’re out of beer,” she says matter-of-factly, “Anyway, I’ve gotta split, the babysitter left three hours ago.”

She leaves without ceremony

My skin is three-feet thick