A drum-and-bass driven spoken word piece about financial desperation and the effect of hopelessness on desperate people.

Ambrose Bierce's Blues

He used to ride in limousines
While drinking French champagne
Until he got arrested with
A pound of pure cocaine

He spent a fortune on his yacht
On caviar and wine
But high living didn't help him
When he was doing time

He lost his job at Goldman Sachs
He lost his trophy wife
He lost his reputation, too
He nearly lost his life

Now he's gone down to Mexico
With nothing left to lose
He's full of Johnny Walker Red
And Ambrose Bierce's blues

They had a condominium
New cars and fancy clothes
He had a quiet office job
She hoped that he'd propose

But when the market bottomed out
His job went with the rest
The mortgage was foreclosed upon
The car was repossessed

They lost the bright blue Cadillacs
The condo by the shore
They lost their American dream
To bankers, thieves, and whores

Now they've gone down to Mexico
With nothing left to lose
They've even lost each other now
To Ambrose Bierce's blues

She was born behind the 8-ball
Dad left when she was five
Her mother turned to dealing drugs
To keep them both alive

She started turning tricks for Mom
The dope would help her sleep
Then she started with the needle
Contracted HIV

She never had a childhood
She barely had a home
She's lost everything she had
The son she's never known

Now she's gone down to Mexico
With nothing left to lose
She's shooting up her China White
And Ambrose Bierce's blues

Now we're all down in Mexico
With nothing left to lose
Looking for a way to live
With Ambrose Bierce's blues

Looking for a way to live
With Ambrose Bierce's blues

Ambrose Bierce's Blues

A sad, angry, jazzy pop song about the murder of Freddie Gray by the Baltimore police.

Freddie Gray

Six officers had come
To Baltimore that day
Expecting that they'd find some crime
But they found Freddie Gray

When poor Freddie ran off
Policemen chased him down
Though Freddie had done nothing wrong
They threw him to the ground

They bent and broke his leg
Because poor Freddie ran
They pressed against his neck so hard
Then threw him in the van

They say that Freddie screamed
As they took him away
The van hit every pothole
In Baltimore that day

They cuffed his arms and legs
They didn't strap him down
He fell into a coma then
From being bounced around

Young Freddie Gray was killed
His murderers walk free
Because they dress in blue and gold 
With stripes upon their sleeves

Don't look for justice here
It's gone forevermore
It died inside a van out on
The streets of Baltimore

Freddie Gray

A jazzy pop rock track about the purveyors of misinformation and fake news.

Fake News

The lies you tell aren't like the lies we're used to
You treat the truth as though it's all a game
You have contempt for all those who believe you
You have no sense of honor or of shame

Although it reads like satire
It just gives me the blues
To see how many people still
Believe in your fake news

The things you say are full of innuendo
To help the blind see what they want to see
Your symphony of lies builds to crescendo
Drowning out the voice of honesty

It's something out of Orwell
And his Ministry of Truth
To see how many people still 
Believe in your fake news

You spit upon our faith in human reason
Pretend your lies are jokes or irony
One day soon we'll see a change of season
The truth will out and the truth will set us free

It might be amusing
If there were less to lose
To see how many people still
Believe in your fake news

It might be amusing
If there were less to lose
To see how many people still
Believe in your fake news

Fake News

A pointedly political pop song about the continuing prevalence in American history and contemporary news of violence committed by white men with guns.

White Man With A Gun

There's nothing more dangerous than a white man with a gun
If your skin is black or brown
If you're walking home unarmed
He'll shoot you if he's frightened
Though he remains unharmed
There's nothing more dangerous than a white man with a gun

There's nothing more frightening than a white man with a gun
It doesn't really matter much
If you walk, run, or stand still
There will be no consequence
Although he shoots to kill
There's nothing more frightening than a white man with a gun

It's so hard to be a white man
In this day and age
With all his unearned privilege
And psychopathic rage
He doesn't understand
He doesn't have a clue
Other people aren't here for him
To hurt, kill, and abuse

There's nothing that's deadlier than a white man with a gun
Protected by the system, but
Convinced he's pushed around
He'll never be convicted;
He always stands his ground
There's nothing that's deadlier than a white man with a gun

Nothing's more American than a white man with a gun
We massacred the natives
That's how the West was won
Lynching blacks and Mexicans
The whole country soaked in blood
Nothing's more American than a white man with a

White Man With A Gun

A first-person melancholy piano ballad relating the experience of a man who's just lost his job and wonders what comes next.

Out Of My Head

Outta my head, outta my head
Feels just like I'm going out of my head
Walking these streets when I should be in bed
Can't help feelin' like I'm outta my head

Bossman says he got to get back on track
Says he's sorry, but don't come back
I'd like to beat him until he bleeds
I got hungry children at home to feed

Drivin' home with a couple of beers inside
Desperation just hitched a ride
I get a message on my cell phone
"Daddy please why don't you come on back home?"

Outta my head, outta my head
Feels just like I'm going out of my head
Oughta be sleepin' but I'm thinkin' instead
Can't help feelin' like I'm outta my head

I don't know if I can go back home yet
So I light up a cigarette
I watch the smoke rise and disappear
Like my hopes have faded into my fears

Nothin' left to pull from my bank account
Don't see how I can turn it 'round
A hungry family waiting at home
Other hungers gnawing right through my soul

Outta my head, outta my head
Feels just like I'm going out of my head
Wonderin' if maybe I'd be better off dead
Can't help feelin' like I'm outta my head

Outta my head, outta my head
Feels just like I'm going out of my head
Wonderin' if maybe I'd be better off dead
Can't help feelin' like I'm outta my head

Out Of My Head

A reggae song of hope and eventual redemption in times of trouble.

Rainbow Over Zion

There's no sunshine in Babylon today
Hard rain fallin', skies are iron gray
Streets are empty, but the people cry
Downpressor man tells his wicked lies

Ah, but in the distance
A one-eyed man can see
There's a rainbow
Rainbow over Zion

There's a promise, a sign sent by Jah
Prophets preachin', teachin' a new law
Time is turning, wicked men will fall
One day the righteous will rule over all

Oh, and in the distance
A one-eyed man can see
There's a rainbow
Rainbow over Zion

Don't you worry; child, don't you fret
These tribulations will end for you yet
Jah sent rainbows, they show us the way
But all rainbows need a little rain

Oh, and in the distance
A one-eyed man can see
There's a rainbow
Rainbow over Zion

Rainbow Over Zion

A dreamy, psych-pop fantasy about sailing away together.

Seven Seas

A psych-pop version of the classic traditional spiritual.

Go Down, Moses

An affectionate, lighthearted psych-pop song inspired by stories of the selfless assistance provided by trained capuchin service monkeys.

Service Monkey

A melancholy song about dealing (or failing to deal) with the loss of a loved one. With a nifty guitar solo.

Talking To Myself

Songwriter and musician based in central Pennsylvania.

Aaron Fredrickson