Bits and pieces

One of these weeks I couldn't finish my song in time, so I did a cover of a great defiant stoner/loser blues written by my good friend Daniel Bromfield. You can find the original at this link (http://otherdanielmusic.bandcamp.com/track/marijuana) and enjoy the lyrics here. I did it pretty different, more of a chopped up funk version of the same and got everybody to percuss because I want audience participation so I don’t have to be so goddamned alone on stage.

Nobody likes me, I’m on the fringes of life

Nobody likes me, I’m gonna set that right

Marijuana gonna save my life

Marijuana gonna be my wife

Marijuana gonna save my soul

With this blunt in my hand I’m ready to roll

Nobody loves me, I’m sitting in the corner of the room

Nobody wants me, I’m gonna change that soon

Marijuana gonna be my king

Marijuana gonna change everything

Marijuana gonna rescue my soul

With this joint in my hand I’m ready to roll, Johnny!

Nobody sees me, I’m the invisible man

Nobody sees me, I’ll change that if I can

Marijuana gonna fill me with pride,

Marijuana gonna be my guide

Marijuana gonna satisfy my soul

With this joint in my hand I’m ready to roll

Nobody wants me, they think I’m kind of strange

Nobody wants me, but that’s about to change

Marijuana gonna be my pope

Marijuana-uh untie this rope

Marijuana gonna save my soul

Well I took my first hit now I’m ready to roll alright

And here are my own lyrics from my unfinished song that week. I have no idea what inspired them, they just sort of happened. The music for this was jazz chords and gentle stroking.

I got 1000 and 1 ways to make ends meet

I got working three jobs and I got sleeping on the street

I got friends on email, I got friends on tv

And I only mind my manners when I’m arrogant, arrogant

I can’t count all the ways that I lull myself to sleep

Can’t deny all of the blood that I cum into my sheets

Can’t deny my fantasies about my hometown in heat

 Just mirages that recede into my stereo, stereo

If I wasn’t born American I wouldn’t be so free

Couldn’t eat that diamond dollar or shoot that bittersweet

Couldn’t wake up when I wanted and zigzag into the sun

And freedom is the mother of the gunman, gunman

I am working on a plan for being openly perverted

I am building helicopters with morality, distorted

I am shaking like a nympho in a club made of snow

And disaster doesn’t always mean disaster, outlast her