An ode to opposites, and a different way to look at some of the issues that are tearing things apart.  This project is still incomplete.  I estimate it to be about 17-20 tracks when finished.

Opposing Forces

This track is an exploration of the mindset of the kinds of people who stormed the Capitol of the United States on 1/06/2021 and all the others who still vex us with their implausible "Alternative Facts."  Opposite "Microcosm," this is a brand new track with a sardonic sense of humor.

Lyrics:

Daddy says that I should go to work.
Welfare checks make you a liberal twerp.
The G-men want to take all of our guns.
And take our cash so we can't stop their run.

Communists and Socialists and Queers
want to tear down all we've had for years.
They're gonna put us white boys in a yoke,
and beat us down until our souls are broke.

Daddy says that I should buy a gun,
and, by God, show them bastards we don't run.
They won't do what we think they should do.
They cain't dissent if they're all cold and blue.

Chorus:
End of the fucking road!

Your thoughts aren't fair and sound.
If you will not back down,
I'll put you end the ground.

You made me do it. X3
Christ what was I thinking?

Momma says "Don't vaccinate your kids."
That's how they plan to turn us into plebs.
Don't you go in public with a mask.
If they say you must, show them your ass.

They're spyin on us through our TV sets,
cellphones, and computers, internet.
If I don't believe what she has said,
She saw it all on Facebook and the Web.

UFOs are studyin our ass.
Chinos want to kill us all at last.
Mexicans are stealing all our jobs.
Of our chicken plants we have been robbed.

Chorus.

Reverend Bill Bernard says, "Go to church."
And give him ten percent of your net worth.
And don't you vote for no damn democrat,
or Jesus Christ will come and stomp your ass.

Liberal, baby-killin pedophiles
will burn our capitol in Satan's pyre.
And Donald Trump is still our President.
Come June, July, September, you'll see it.

The Lord our God will throw them all in hell
and take away the kids of the illegals.
Those in MAGA hats will rise again,
and Donald Trump absolves us of our sins.

Chorus.

Coda
Please don't jail me.
I was lied to.
Please don't tell me
I was lied to.

Aggressive Conspiracy Theory Victim

A new track.

There’s fighting in the streets,
Police against the civs,
Rich against the poor
Everyone against everyone unlike them.

I touch no one I love.
Afraid I might be sick
Afraid they might be sick
With a just an errant breath we could all kill each other.

“And I don’t want to be here anymore.
“And they don’t really need me anymore.
“Seems the world just wasn’t built for me for sure.
“And I don’t think I can be here anymore,”
We all sigh.

A man then formed from dust
He stood so tall and just upon the empty street
Guitar strapped to his back
As if it were a knightly claymore.

His hair was long and brown
His glasses oval framed
He wore a blue trench coat
And as I stared at him, I thought he looked just like John Lennon.

He looked all around
His lenses glimmering
He struck a rocker’s pose
He strummed his old guitar as if he were composing magic.

And he sang,

Chorus:

“Sha la la la la da lie
Unlock your doors and come outside.
Lose the fear.  Refuse to hide,
And set the children free.

“Sha la la da la da Lie,
I can’t express the reasons why.
Hate didn’t work; give love a try
And set the children free.

A drum set appeared behind him
And sitting in the middle was John Bonham
Entwistle stepped up and took his place
Going off on the four-string bass.

The dog stopped chasing the mail man.
Democrats danced with Republicans.
The cat in the alley spit out the fish
And with the mouse he shared his dish.

Before we all knew it, we were outside 
Swinging and clapping and being alive.
That’s how we all began to move
As the rockers agonized over the blues.

Singing:
“Sha la la da la da lo
I can’t explain because I don’t know
Just dance like a lover with your worst foe
And set the children free.”

“Sha la la da don’t you cry.
We’re gonna bring love back to life.
Search your heart and grasp the good inside
And set the children free.”

Troops in the bush drop guns and rise,
And share a few beers with the other side.
It didn’t take long before they realized
The nasty row was a rich man’s fight.

Landlords tore up their back rent notes
And dropped their rates so the goose wouldn’t choke.
Scrooges eased up and lightened the yoke
And paid Cratchit more because he was broke.

Daddies came back to the Moms and kids.
She agreed not to emasculate him.
He stopped pretending that he owned them.
And for once, they all agreed.

They all cried,

Sha la la da la da lie.
Open your heart let love inside
Put away the hurt like auld lang syne,
And set the children free.

Sha la la da la da lo.
It’s time to let the hatred go.
If we knew what we used to know.
We’d set the children free.

CODA:

Sha la la da la da lie.
Unlock your doors and come outside.
Lose the fear refuse to hide.
And set the children free.

“Sha la la la la da Lie,
I can’t express the reasons why.
Hate didn’t work; give love a try
And set the children free.

“Sha la la da la da lo
I can’t explain because I don’t know
Just dance like a lover with your worst foe
And set the children free.”

“Sha la la da don’t you cry.
We’re gonna bring love back to life.
Search your heart and grasp the good inside
And set the children free.”


Sha la la da la da lie.
Open your heart let love inside.
Put away the hurt with auld lang syne,
And set the children free.

Sha la la da la da low.
It’s time to let the hatred go.
If we knew what we used to know.
We’d set the children free.

Set The Children Free

Another accidental decent new song that fits nicely in the "Opposing Forces" project.  I wrote the lyrics last week, recorded the music last Wednesday, and the vocals today.

This song is about the good people who dismiss themselves when they see something horrible happening to another person.

Lyrics:

Little Gage is in the back of the bus again
The safe seats were all taken.
They spit and mock and slap and they pull his hair.
Even after he starts shaking.

The others lock their eyes on the road ahead.
And ensure that he’s forsaken.
The driver never looks back from the road.
Not for peace, life, or creation.

Chorus:

They’re all trying not to notice.
They don’t want to know this.
“Thank God, this is not me but someone else!”

Bella’s broken down in the locker room
With mean girls all around her.
They’ve cut up all her nice new cool school clothes
That her mother worked so hard for.

The other girls avert their eyes and leave
And do not offer comfort.
When asked later they say they know nothing.
Not sure they even saw her.

Chorus:

They made sure not to notice.
They do not need to know this.
“Thank God, that was not me but someone else!”

Devon has spent six months on the deep blue sea.
He really missed his family.
He drove all night and passed through three more states.
Not caring how he’s driving.

Blue lights appear behind him on the road.
And calmly, he pulls over.
The cops say he’s been drinking all night long.
And pull him from his Rover.

Chorus:
They begin to beat him.
And no one stops to help him.
“Thank God, that isn’t me but someone else!”

Bridge:
Cowardice is violence, too.
How long until they come for you?
What have you gained observing rules?
The enforcers are clearly evil.

Chorus:
You think that you can hold out.
And they won’t call your own out.
Dear God, please save these people from themselves!

Two kids peeking through the upstairs back window
As Nazis march the Jews out.
They force them all to stop and take off their clothes
Then they heard them to a dug out.

They make them face away from the men with guns.
And then they blow their brains out.
The grown-ups in the house all hear the cries.
They pretend that it is all well.

Chorus:
They refuse to notice.
They don’t want to know this.
“Thank God, this isn’t us but someone else!”

You think that you can hold out.
And they won’t call your own out.
Good God, please save your children from themselves.

Craven

I call this style "Nirvana against the Lincoln Park Machine."  This is another opposing forces track.

Lyrics:
Please give me leave to end this dream and speak the truth.
There's nothing about this shameful scene that I don't know.
Once the hunt is done, so is the fun.  In comes your rules.
In your web, I'm spun, and I am done.  I am your fool.
Fool.

Chorus:
You don't own me.
Not an accessory.
I'm never gonna be your fucking slave.
I don't play dress up.
I'm not a Ken Doll.
I'm not for show, and I'm never fake.

I hate the jerk that I become when I'm with you.
You think it's love.  It's jealousy and I refuse.
For self abuse, I have no use and not for you.
Lust is good and understood, but love is cruel.
Cruel

Chorus.

Please give me leave to end this dream and speak the truth.
There's nothing about this shameful scene that I don't know.
Once the hunt is done, so is the fun.  In comes your rules.
In your web I'm spun and I am done.  I am your fool.

I'll stay with you and mind your rules and all your kin.
'cause I can't bare to be aware of other men.
So I'm resigned to being blind till death I end.
Or you get bored and tell your hoard I'm just a friend.
Friend.

Chorus:
You don't own me.
Not an accessory.
Never gonna be your fucking slave.
I don't play dress up.
I'm not a Ken doll.
I'm not for show and I'm never fake.
I'm not a sidekick.
I'm not a rubber stamp.
I don't do what you want because you're not that great.
I'm not a piggy bank.
I'm not a twat plug.
If that's what you want, go the fuck away.

Anti - Love Song

Another new {old} song.  I wrote this one a long time ago.  This is a brand new version, so it will probably see a lot of changes.  Opposing Forces Project.

The Vagrant

This is a new song.  We're already up to version 2:  Did some mastering cleaned up some of the audio, and fixed some of the vocals.  I like the story I found in this one.  As for the music, this is what would happen if Metallica made sweet musical love with The Beatles.  Version 3: toned down the overpowering distort guitars and cleaned a few things up.  Brought out the vocals in the verses.  Pulled the flute and clarinet parts back. (wanted those parts to be quiet).

Lyrics:

If you want to save someone from something,
I just wanted to save someone from something.
If you want to save someone from something,
Save them from yourself.

I was a sickly boy.
From ages two through eight, locked down inside my room.
I didn't have a friend.
All I ever did was sit and stare at my TV.

Binged Andy Griffith Shows.
And early Batman made in the 1960s.
That's how I learned the world
And picked my place within it like my father thought I should.

Learned the three types of men.
The heroes and the villains and the victims of their war.
I wanted to be Batman.
Though it's not so simple, I decided to do it.

Chrous:
I didn't mean it.
This is not who I am.
Please, please just listen to me.
I made a mistake.

I grew up big and strong.
I played a lot of sports, and I learned how to fight them off.
I learned to shoot a gun
nailing moving targets like the world was standing still.

Then I put on a badge
And went into the world to fight the monsters and their ilk.
Stare in the dark too long,
It worms its way inside you.  You become what you find ill.

I cannot meet a man
without looking for all the bad things that he has inside.
Somewhere along the way,
The line between the good and bad became very muddy.

Chorus.

Just a short traffic stop.
He had a broken tail light and I stopped to let him know.
Told me he had a gun
nestled in the console by his registration.

Said he should watch his hands.
"Don't go for that console or this stop could turn real bad."
Said that he had to show me
Reaching for the console, so I did what I had to.

Chorus

Outtro:
If you want to save someone from something. . . .
I just wanted to save someone from something.
If you want to save someone from something,
Save them from yourself.

Blue Tragedy

In opposition to Anti-Love Song.  This is one of my oldest songs recently re-written and re-purposed.  Version 2:  Vocals were too loud; Instruments were too soft.  Freed up headroom by taking some of the low end out of each track.  Increased the volume of the crunch guitar.   Increased the overall volume of the organ.  Added some spacial effects.  Sped up the tempo slightly.  (This is completely new version of this song.  I'll likely play with the audio a lot more). Version three:  fixed an issue with the crunch guitar.  When I sped the track up, the Crunch guitar didn't render right, so I busted out the Epiphone and re-recorded it.  I also corrected a few issues with the vocals, and added a fade out to the end.  Increased the volume of the organ track.

The Greatest Thing I'll Never Have

This is a brand new song.  I've had the idea for a minute, but I found a concept I liked this past weekend.  This one may change a bit.  This is definitely the crux of the "Opposing Forces" idea, and the other end of the title "Blue Tragedy."  As for the style, it's a mixture of a lot of sixties and seventies styles of music.  Let me know what you think as this one is a little experimental.  Version 2: Balanced some stuff.  Reworked some of the vocals.  I noticed missed notes and some areas that were slightly off tempo, and I fixed a lot of that.  Version 3: Cymbal crashes were distorting the sound.  Pulled that back -- a lot.  Brought out the chorus Crunch guitar a little more.  Made some more room.

Lyrics:

Intro:
The devil's glee.
The angels weep.
Great Father looks down.
His bearing screams:

"These are my children.  They're not untermenschen!
"No!
"They were never meant to be controlled."

Little boy with mocha skin and eyes full of dawn.
When he grows up he wants to change the whole world.
He declares in blue crayon.

He grew and he grew until he rose above the crowd.
A smile that lit the sky and brought the walls down.
Ne'er wore a frown.

As he was driving back home from a small town,
got shot in a traffic stop for having a gun.
Court date disallowed.

"These are my children.  They're not untermenschen!
"No!
"And my progeny won't let it go!"

In an attic lives a scared, little girl
Inside she hides from all the hate in the world.
Never coming unfurled.

Her journal spins a brilliant quilt full of whorl.
When she grows up, she wants to show the whole world.
She presents with a twirl.

A pack of bastards ruined what might have been.
Off to camps with her whole family and friends.
Never made amends.

"These are my children; they're not untermenschen.
"No!
"And your hatred will swallow you whole."

Hispanic man who lost his life's sweet amor.
Raising kids where you can die if you're poor.
He decides he wants more.

They wear out their shoes searching far heretofore.
To the states where they might thrive forevermore.
Though despised and abhorred.

Crossing the border, they are seen by the boars.
The father runs but he is shot in the gourd.
And the kids beaten sore.

"This was our father.  He wasn't subhuman!
"No!
"And our fury will dig you a hole!"

Great father looks down:

"These are my children; they're not untermenschen!
"No!
"I will return and my wrath you'll behold!"

Coda:
And the blood cries up from the ground:
"How long will you let it go?"
It's your blood too, didn't you know?
"How long will you let it go?
"How long will you let it go?"

Untermenschen

The style of this track is unusual.  Influences for it would be Pink Floyd, The Doors, Pearl Jam, Nine Inch Nails, anything '60s.  This is a brand new song, and the first version.  I'm sure I'll do a lot of work to it.  Version 2:  corrected an issue with verse 3: the guitar and the bass guitar didn't agree on the tempo.  re-recorded the guitar part there.  At some point I want to add another vocal track to the beginning, but for now, it's good the way it is.

Lyrics:

The day the world ended for me,
heaven bound my soul to this tree.
So all the generations I'd see
destroyed by pain and misery --
          Misery caused by me.

Recall the moment that I died.
Hot and sharp pain from the knife.
Then I receded inside.
Forgot the voices screaming in strife,
          Strife against my life.

Behind my headstone I preside.
Looking down from here on high.
This is where I meet my little bride.
Every day she comes here and cries.
           Cries for my demise.

I wish that you would let me go.
It wasn't your fault or your woe.
I couldn't buy it, so I stole.
I got cut you didn't know.
           It cost me everything.

Chorus 1:
I see you there.  Can you hear me?
Do you know that you are near me?
I feel no pain anymore,
Just the gentle, sweeping breeze
As it brushes through the leaves
            How I wish that you could see.

Bridge:
I never meant to hurt you.
I never meant to burn it down.
I didn't want to desert you.
My anger let you down.

Chorus 2:
I see you there, can you hear me?
Do you sense that you are near me?
I'm up here and not down there,
Left my bones for worthless wares,
and I ruined everything.

Coda:
Take it from me
The man in the tree.
We pay for all our deeds.

Take it from me
The man in the tree.
Be careful what you be.

Take it from me
The man in the tree. . . .

The Man In the Tree

This is a redo.  Originally the song was called "Ugly."  It was supposed to be about an emasculated population of physically unattractive and bizarre men ignored by the fairer sex and belittled by other men.  The song wanted to be about something else.  I tried to force it, and what I got sounded much more like someone who might drive a windowless, white van with nefarious intentions.  

My ex even chimed in.  "Is this how you really feel?  OMG. . . ."  Me: "No, this is a dramatic monologue meaning the speaker is a character. . . ."  So in this redo, I allowed it to be what it wants.  It's about an agoraphobe.

Lyrics:

I don’t get many visitors here
It’s just my voice in these four walls.
I’m just sitting here every day
Rehashing tragedies long gone.

I’m so glad that you came today.
What’s mine is yours just please stay long.
I might seem crazy just have no fear;
I’m as harmless as a knocked down pawn.

Don’t leave me alone!

Chorus:
I just want someone to care who doesn’t have to.
Sitting alone and wasting away because I’m freaky.
Imagine myself with someone beautiful like you touching me.
But then the dream is gone. I feel I should apologize for being me.
I’m so tired of feeling bad because I’m me.

The ones I loved never would choose me.
I don’t know what to say.
Not after sex I just you to hold me.
No regret on your sweet face.

See all these people. They look so happy.
Like children on holidays.
And here I feel I should beg your pardon
For my awkward desperate ways.

Don’t walk away!

Chorus

Bridge:
Sometimes I curse the day my parents came together.
Why would God create a phobic wretch like me?
I’m sure no one would care if you blew my fucking brains out,
except the person has the mess to clean.

Outro Chorus:
I just wanted someone sane to not dismiss me.
Sitting alone and feeling bad because I’m crazy.
I close my eyes and dream you’re smiling back at me, feeding me.
When it’s over I feel gross for trespassing in my dreams.
I don’t want to be ashamed because I’m me.

Freaky

Intro:
She sleeps beneath the deep.
Be-ckon-ing.
Coaxing men from their dreams.
Song of sirens.

Luring them through the haze.
To where she lays.
Seducing them to their graves.
Making them slaves.

Chorus 1:
Loralei,
Why have you so much hate inside?
Sleeping to the music box your daddy gave you.
He said that it was magic.
It puts the monsters to sleep.
But you’re the only monster that I see.

When she was a little girl
Her daddy told her she’d always be his queen.

When she grew up one day.
A perfect prince would come to fulfill her dreams.

Her mother grew old and dull.
He left them hanging for a younger woman unbound.

So it was a lie!

Eventually her prince did come.
What she wanted but not what she really needed.

In the backseat of his red Trans Am,
She gave him a part of herself she couldn’t get back.


So it was a lie!

Chorus 2:
Loralei,
What made you feel so sad inside?
Staring at the music box your daddy gave you.
He said that it was magic
It puts the monsters to sleep.
What if the only monster is lechery? 

She passed through so many men.
They’d promise the moon and deliver a stale piece of cheese.

Tell her she was beautiful
Use her like a socket and never give her the ring.

So it was a lie!

Chorus 3:
Loralei,
Why do you feel so lost inside?
Crying with the music box your daddy gave you.
He said that it was magic.
It keeps the demons away.
But what if the beast inside you never sleeps?

Then along I came.
I figured that others used her, why not me?

My passion made her believe.
I swore upon the earth and sun that I’d never go.

But it was a lie.

Chorus 4:
Loralei,
Is that what made you want to die?
Clenching the music box your daddy gave you.
Watching churning waters below.
You flung yourself from the road.
No one ever even heard you scream.

I see you in my dreams
Sum-mon-ing
Pulling me far upstream.
To the bridge’s beam.

I wake at the break of dawn.
Standing on
The bridge where you passed on.
And led the others.

Chorus 5:
Loralei,
I know that I deserve to die.
Lured by the music box your daddy gave you.
They say that it is magic.
It pulls the beasts to the deep.
Which means the only monster here is me.

Originally, I had an idea for a kind of contrasting Duo.  I would write a song about the covert challenges of being male, and I would follow it with the difficulty of being a woman.  That idea evolved into “Ugly,” and the initial idea for the title that would become “Loralei.”  I had another challenge lying in wait, though.  Just before I wrote the song “Ugly,” fleshed it out, and recorded it, I wrote a different kind of song called “Man in the Tree.”  Because the theme of this project is opposites, I would need to find something that would oppose “Man in the Tree.”

I happened on the idea for “Loralei” quite by accident.  An acquaintance at work recently discovered that she and her husband were with child, and curious sort that I am, I asked about their name scheme.  Their girl name was, of course, Loralei.  It was such a pretty name, that I had to find out what it meant.  When I looked it up, I discovered a German Folktale about a beautiful maid scorned by a faithless lover who leapt to her death in the Rhine River.  She became a siren – luring sailors to their deaths.

Before I knew it, I took that bit of lore, combined it with my love of dark fantasy, added my eternal penance idea from “Man in the tree,” worked in my need to give a voice to my observations about how hard it is for particularly pretty women to get men to really see them, and next thing you know I have a song that opposes two others.  I love the mellow darkness and mysteriousness of this song.
Beatles and Pink Floyd influences in this one, but it sounds like neither.  I can’t say if anyone else will like it, but I certainly do.

Loralei

The emotional history of a very dangerous person.  I wrote this track a long time ago.  I've recorded it before.  -- The original verson was done using only a multitrack .wav studio that I used back when I first started playing with sound.  This is a completely new version using much more sophisticated recording equipment, better electric and bass guitars, and of course Cubase which is currently my favorite recording software.  This is the opposite of another older song that I wrote called, "The Martyr."

Lyrics:

Welcome to my secret garden
Where nothing ever grows.
            Nothing ever grows.
If you'd care to walk beside me,
I'll tell you what it knows.

"How is this a garden?" you say.
"I only see a creek."
            Only see a creek.
Beneath the waters running cold
is where my harvest sleeps.

She was a kind and gentle girl
Before she went astray.
             before she went astray.
High her nose, she took my brother
For everything he'd made.
She had to go away.

Chorus:
Do you want to be my favorite seed?
I promise you don't have to bleed.
Just resolve to walk with me.
I only want to set you free.
              Free.

Beneath the bank beneath the mud
is where the rich man sleeps.
               where the rich man sleeps.
He took from all and he gave back nothing
And now he has no need.

Below the tree across the way
Is Mr. Delaray.
                 Mr. Delaray.
He taught much more than math to school girls
He really had to pay.

Interred below that rock just there
Lies Mary Courtier.
                  Mary Courtier.
Not quite sure what she did to others
just that she had to pay
And now she's far away.

Chorus.

Once again wash off the sin.
I'll sigh and turn away.
                   sigh and turn away.
Might get caught but I don't care.
It's the price I'll have to pay.

Chorus.

Reaper

This is a new version of an old song.  Rather than make "The Martyr" eight minutes long, I decided to do the intro as the intro to the Opposing Forces project, and pick up the end of the song as the outro for the project.  This is a brand new part of the song.  Musically and lyrically I intended it to describe in a realistic and secular way the prayer at the Garden of Gethsemene, just before the arrest of the man commonly known as Jesus of Nazareth.  It was fun doing a musical story like this without writing a hymn.

From Gethsemane Part One:   (Opposing Forces Intro)

Part two and the last track of "Opposing Forces."  All of this is new, and will probably see a lot of changes.

From Gethsemane (Part Two:   Opposing Forces Outtro)

This is the second studio version of Corporate Slave.  Different vocal tracks,  Drop D tuned, heavy guitars . . . more like the original idea.  This is brand new and still rough.

Lyrics:

Once you grow out of your mother's arms
It all changes.  It becomes so hard.
You try to help but only cause more harm.
You should feel worthless.  You're not what they want.

You waste your time working your life away.
You earn the right to work another day.
You once had reason, but you lost your way.
And once it's gone you've got nothing left to say.

Chorus:  Breathe x2

Just to step out of your bedroom door
Takes great courage.  Don't know what's in store.
You play for money and you're called a whore.
You play for power and you're just abhored.

You wanna make your mark and take the plunge.
You're working all the time.  Never see the sun.
Before you know it, your whole life is done, 
and when you die, they forget all that you've done.

Chorus:  Breathe x2

Bridge:
And when I've had enough, I'll blow it all to hell.
         I'm not for sale.
They'll get what they deserve in bankrupt chains and sales.
         I will prevail.
I'll pack my shit, and they can go straight to hell.

Coda:  S-U-V driving, two-story house buying, Tommy Hilfiger wearing corporate slave x5

Corporate Slave Version 2

This song is the intended opposite of "Corporate Slave."  It's a brand new song that takes the perspective of the American oligarchy which has been totally taking advantage of not just citizens of The United States but everyone in the world who is not them while being overtly priggish -- beating the personal responsibility pulpit -- and covertly greedy and gratuitously opportunistic.  (Actually, it's a little nicer than that).  This is a brand new song.  V2:  brought out the guitars and bass a bit more.  Found the wig-wagging vocals a little distracting, so I lessened the level of the effect.  Next, I'll probably re-work some of the bass part, and get rid of one area in particular that's a little rough.

Revision 3:  Changed the clean guitar to stereo.  Removed some of the plugins that overloaded the sound.   Re-recorded some of the bass parts and added a new part in one of the bridges to deepen the sound.

Lyrics:

Lazy, little brats wanting something for nothing.
All day long sitting on their asses
Now they want whine I don’t pay enough money.
They want to steal my gold.

Work myself to death building this sprawling empire.
Rode this desk twenty hours a week.
Barely had the time to improve my golf game.
And they say I’m cold.

Pissy liberal babies claim that I’m too wealthy.
I robbed the poor and gave it all to me.
Flaccid commie bastards all can lick my nut sack.
This land belongs to me!

I’m the boss!

Chorus:
What this world really needs
Is someone who will lead
Take the reins and proceed
To make the unwashed masses think like me.

Someone like me.

Idle sissies cry about the twelve-hour workday.
Then they moan about their wage.
They say it’s not enough to support their families.
Don’t fuck if you can’t pay.

They just wanna have their cake and then eat it.
I’ll Automate the whole goddamn thing.
You wanna be rich, you should start your own business.
Then you’ll fathom me.

Some may say my position’s immoral.
But Moral men go broke and die.
That is why I own a giant yacht and two mansions.
The means are justified.

I’m the boss!

Chorus.

My father built this fortune.
His favorite only child.
Left us to our mother.
It’s all that I have left of him.

I’ll never be that perfect.
But I won’t let it slip away.
It’s me against the world.
And me against the working class.

You can’t fight me I’m city hall! x4

I’m the boss.

I own you.
I own me.
I own both political parties.

The Boss

This is yet another brand new song.  It turned out to be a little more than I envisioned.  It's not filler.  In fact. . . .  Well, I like it anyway.  The style is a little different than some of the more recent stuff.  I would call this blues Rock.  My influence for this type of genre would be Blues Traveler, Counting Crows, Black Crowes . . . any number of others.  This is a first version, so I'm sure some of it may change later after I've listened to it a few thousand times.

Lyrics:

I’ll bet I know how I must look to you.                                          
I’ll bet I know how I must look to you.

                       
Hair exploding from my head
Like frayed copper wire.
Ragged Clothes bare of thread.
And ten years out of style.

Every time you step out your door
And look across the road,
I’m sitting on my porch swing here
And smoking like a stove.

I’ll bet I know how I must look to you.
I bet you haven’t thought how you must look to me.

I saw your son at the bus stop yesterday.
With a mean Frozen grin on his face.
		Kids in colorful winter coats
		All except for one.

		He wears a thin cloth jacket stained and frayed.
		His hair a tangled and oily disarray. 
		He said nothing to anyone.
		Stood in the rain and stared.

You might know him.  He lives just up the street.
In the house with the yard that’s gone to seed.
His mother left them two months ago
For better company.

Your boy smacked him across the face
He fell with a heavy thud.
Dumped the contents of his bag
And ground it in the mud.

This boy is me
Your son is just like you.

Ch:
Microcosm of humanity
On our little street, well
No one’s good but we’re not bad.
No one’s happy but some are sad.

All have eyes trained to the sky, and we’re screaming,  Ah!
“Please don’t hate me I’m not a saint.
“I’m just fumbling through my days.”
“Trying not to screw this up and failing.”

The little white house across the road
Sitting facing me.
An older lady once lived alone.
She was sixty-three.

Never saw any visitors there
Not even holidays.
About eleven years ago.
She up and passed away.

That brick house to the left just there
With Trump signs in the yard.
Lives a preacher who drives a truck.
His name is Bill Bernard.

He spends all his time on the road
His wife just sits at home
Many men come to run the train
The moment he is gone.

No one tells him
Hell, not even me.

Chorus 2


I’ll bet I know what you must think of me.
I’m not the fool you seem to think I am.
I’m not the fool you seem to think I am.

This is closer than I ever want to be.
Don’t give a damn what you must think of me.

Opposing Forces

Matt Cantrell