Bully in the Alley

Cover of an old folk tune called "Rye Whiskey"

Rye Whiskey

Eliza-Lee as preformed by The Dreadnoughts. Credit to original Artists.

Eliza-Lee

Running Down To Cuba

Ewan MacColl's classic folk song; originally written about Salford, Greater Manchester, England, the town where MacColl was born and brought up. It was originally composed for an interlude to cover an awkward scene change in his 1949 play Landscape with Chimneys, set in a North of England industrial town, but with the growing popularity of folk music the song became a standard.

Dirty Old Town

Dough Boy’s rollin’, tires so high,
A lift kit that’s reaching for the sky.
The pills didn’t work, no blue little dreams,
So he cranked the diesel, and made it scream.
A cloud of smoke with a thundering roar,
He ain't compensating, no, not anymore.

He’s got no steel, and the axles bend—
A floppy truth he can’t defend.

Dough Boy drives with a dough-soft dong,
Rollin’ coal like nothin’s wrong.
His shaft don’t rise, but the chassis might,
Suspension compensates each night.

At the corner shop, he revs that beast,
With a V8 roar, he's the freakin' priest.
Shifting gears, blowing clouds of despair,
But he ain’t slowing, he’s breathing the air.
It’s more than just horsepower and torque,
It’s a symbol of might when things just don’t work.

Revving blind through smoke and bluster,
He’s got the heat, but can’t muster.

Dough Boy thunders down the street,
A monument to his limp deceit.
His manhood's made of crescent dough,
And no amount of torque will grow.

When the sun sets low and the trucks all around,
He’s the loudest on the block, shaking the ground.
A man of the moment, but inside he's hollow,
His truck’s his pride, the one thing he can follow.
Dough Boy, with the rolling coal mist,
A myth of manhood he can’t resist.

He’s not upright, but still he climbs—
The only height is axle-timed.

Dough Boy, flaccid king of smoke,
With girthless pride and piston poke.
No blood will surge, but diesel might,
He hauls his shame in broad daylight.

Dough Boy’s still rolling, tires to the sky,
In his lifted dream, he’s still flying high...

Dough Boy

Escape from myself , songs about depression and how some people deal with it.

Escape from myself

[Verse 1]
She pulls up slow in a rust-red  Chevy
Boots on the dash, ain't never been heavy
A wild wind soul with a taste for the bend
Trouble and whiskey riding' shotgun again

Dust on the mirror, sun in her eyes
Never looks back, never says goodbye
She don't care 'bout clean or tender
She's got pride in that mud on her fender

[Chorus]
Mud on her fender, fire in her eyes
Rollin' through the backroads, chasing’ midnight
Radio loud, ain't takin’ no detour
Hell on wheels and she’s begging’ for more
Every mile’s a memory she don't surrender
She wears her story in mud on her fender

[Verse 2]
A heart like a piston, burning’ too fast
She'll love you hard, but it just won’t last
Knows every bar from here to Laredo
Dances like sin in a neon halo

A sticker on the tailgate says “Born to Roam”
A shotgun rider but she drives alone
You can try to catch her, but don't offend her—
That ain't rain, boy, that’s mud on her fender

[Chorus]
Mud on her fender, thunder in her lane
Lightning in her laughter, driving' through the pain
She’s a storm in boots, a rebel contender
Breaking the rules with mud on her fender

[Bridge]
Ain’t no map going to pin her down
She'll turn that wheel and leave this town
But if you’re lucky, she might remember—
The night you danced with the mud on her fender

[Final Chorus / Outro]
Mud on her fender, stars in her wake
Gasoline heart with a thirst she can't shake
She’s gone like a whisper, but you won’t forget her
That girl with the fire and the mud on her fender

Bully in the Alley

El Pony Pisador