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Here's Another Fine Mess

by Rick McLean

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1.
Well I woke up Monday morning saw the weekend must have passed I started my ignition and I saw I need gas Somethin’ smelt real funny, was scent that stung my eyes My car smells like a dog kennel and I do not know why! Broken record needle, skippin’ last month’s rent Said money was comin’ but I only made a dent Out of home and on the road, why’s it no surprise? My car smells like a dog kennel and I do not know why! Pretty lady likes to sing and drink and shake her hips But I know her eyes will never say the same thing has her lips Every time her name gets mentioned I just look up to the sky and shout My car smells like a dog kennel and I do not know why! Well I found some sandwich wrappers and an empty coffee cup Soda bottle filled with seeds and three packs worth of butts Paper bag with what I think had once been curly fries My car smells like a dog kennel and that is probably why!
2.
Guitar player tryin’ to make some extra chips and bones Needs a place to settle with the few things that he owns But he’s playin’ out of designated busker zones And naturally, a crook like this can not be left alone So the police man came to shut it down! Police man came to shut it down! The police man came to shut it down! Police man came to shut the fucker down! Somethin’ about a Friday night that tends to draw a crowd I’ll admit it’s safe to say that things were getting’ loud Homeboy in the corner lookin’ like he’s good and plowed I got a funny feeling that this ain’t to be allowed Peacefully assembling to exercise some rights Got enough for heat and rent but not for food and lights You can plead the first for now but can’t stay here all night And if you do we’ve got some dogs that sure know how to bite Stop and frisk pedestrians for nothing but their race Beat a drunken crippled man to put him in his place Pepper spray an unarmed crowd directly to the face It’s the patriotic way to use a can of mace And no one came to shut it down! No one came to shut it down! And no one came to shut it down! No one came to shut the fucker down!
3.
Where did I put that trusty old crutch? That sweet, bitter blast to the brain? Days are unseen in my time machine A genie’s lamp sends a cramp to the swimmin’ pain I walk with a limp as I go it alone With longing to a certain degree Dazzled by the holes in my favorite shirt And not being where I thought I should be A crooked grinned friend with a knife in his boot Tells ya everything you wanna hear Barks out loud encouraging words But when the well runs dry he always disappears A dead dove lyin’ on the side of the road In a filthy drain gutter that’s filled with debris Just another piece of gathering trash That’s readily available and offered for free Well it’s hard to hold if you can’t get a grip Like a brain-dead captain on a runaway ship He racks his head but it’s ill equipped So he sends himself into a foggy abyss Aiming for a target that he knows he’s gonna miss Washed up, dried out can you turn the light out? Need to spend the day in bed Clothes are all dirty and the washer’s broke While a blizzard wages war inside of my head They say there’s no rest for a wicked man I guess that’s why sleep never comes The only way to spend this kind of day Is by making all your senses go numb
4.
Well Sunday I go to church, Monday I go to my job Tuesday I know that the mortgage is due and Wednesday I lost my dog But when Thursday comes around I just don’t know what I should do To help me get rid of these low-down, no good sorry ol’ country blues I’ll have a cold beer on the flat bed of my Chevy Silverado on a Friday night! I got a pretty lady and she told me later maybe So I reach into the cooler for another Coors light! HEY! Well I’m BBQing briskets for my gravy biscuits And I’m drinking Southern Comfort out of plastic cups I’ll act like I don’t know ya if you don’t like Coca-Cola And if you ain’t down with freedom you can shut the fuck up! I wear blue jeans to the district court I wasted all of my money bettin’ on sports And it’ll be a cold day in hell when ya get my gun! My father taught me how to be a man By spittin’ tobacco into a can And I know of one sure fire way that I can have fun And that’s a cold beer on the flat bed of my Chevy Silverado on a Friday night! I got a pretty lady and she told me later maybe So I reach into the cooler for another Coors light! Grizzly wintergreen! Monster energy drinks! Harley Davidson T-shirts! Mountain Dew! Jack Link’s beef jerky!
5.
I’ll tell you ‘bout a legend, Frank Jacob was his name Everything he had acquired came from where his gun was aimed Known across the country for a savagely sharp tongue That would strike its prey with venom every time air left his lungs It was 1897 when he met his great demise He was livin’ as a wanted mug and droppin’ men like flies Cornered in a liquor store by twenty from the state He reluctantly accepted what would surely be his fate The trial was a spectacle, the room filled wall to wall People gathered from all over just to see the hero fall Enemies and families and those he knew as friends Sat together as his legacy came quickly to an end The jury undisputedly condemned him to the chair For the life he led of violence, theft, and merciless despair Christian mothers hissed and jeered and cursed his name to hell With the slamming of a gavel he was thrown into a cell Well they brought a priest to Jacob to give him his final rites When a flash of lightning broke the sky and shut out all the lights The father cried out this can only be the devil’s work And through the dark the saw that Frank had grown a wicked smirk After they fed him his final meal of rice and beans It had always been his favorite even when he had the means They bound his hands in metal and removed him from his cage Then declared the years he’d been on earth would be his final age They dragged him outside for a cold execution There was snow up to his knees and a gun up to his head The power outage pardoned him of his electrocution But it didn’t change the words that the verdict had read Then they asked him if he had thought of any last words He said save the diplomatic shit and put me in the dirt Without further questioning they shut his eyes with lead Then they bowed their heads in silence as the watched him while he bled
6.
Built up from an early age to see life as an empty page That fills up as you get to know yourself But then you find the cold, hard truth you couldn’t handle as a youth You’re stomped out by appraisals of your wealth The stories they could piece together from the contents of our pockets Made it look like we were nothing more than unprepared adults A cliché portrait of a generation made of hopelessly romantic fools All venturing towards economic doom So when this freight train finally comes to a screeching hault At least we can look back and say that we enjoyed the view I’ll be looking forward to living fast and dying young with you Tattoo sleeves of inside jokes you thought of over packs of smokes That both of us knew you could not afford Diagnosed anxiety self medicated thoroughly Because you had connections and got bored They way you tried to tell me how you figured out the answers That could fix the world’s problems just by legalizing weed The arguments got heated up as we refilled our glasses And we both forgot what we were even arguing about So let introduce to you a solemn piece of wisdom That I have carried with me now for reasons I forgot If life were a movie then it would have a mediocre plot Well you can’t start a monopoly on humanist philosophy What’s the point when there’s nothing to gain? Figurative cattle prods that do the work of paper gods Like vultures who’ve discovered our remains Spat on, shat on, left for dead, the guiding hand’s been filled with lead As mountains lift their feet up so your face can hit the dirt Grievances to disregard as no more than not trying hard Enough to fit into a puzzle with no shapes like your own Your bootstraps couldn’t take the pull so now you’re left without a soul That makes for harder travels as your feet stay wicked cold Not meant as wishful thinking but I can’t envision myself growing old Not meant as wishful thinking but I can’t envision myself growing old
7.
When life is boring to the point that you’re snoring you can always go Downtown You want a place where you no longer feel safe well you can always go Downtown Just look at all the litter and the homes not worth insurin’ Crooked cops and crystal meth and men that smell like urine On the ground Ain’t nothing like this picturesque location You’ll forget what your name is and that you’re on probation When you’re downtown! Weird things are happenin’ Downtown! People panhandlin’ Downtown! Tweakers and stabbins and booze You walk out of the bar and see dudes playin’ guitars And singin’ songs that don’t rhyme Downtown You were with the wrong people and got poked with a needle That was used eight times Downtown You walk into a parking lot to make yourself a purchase The whores don’t really love ya but oh my god aren’t they courteous Goin’ down The ATM’s reading insufficient funds But it ain’t easy to tell that to a dude with a gun When you’re downtown! Weird things are happenin’ Downtown! People panhandlin’ Downtown! Tweakers and stabbins and booze
8.
Snark Attack 02:43
Well I’m a low life piece of shit ‘cause it makes me happy! I see the world through dark electric clouds You can insert some response about potential! That I’ll probably just wind up tuning out Broken compass points in all directions None of which seem to lead anywhere Guilt brought on by ancient institutions And realizing I just don’t fuckin’ care! I don’t mean to be melodramatic! I know this ain’t a healthy point of view Only know myself when feeling manic JK LOL hashtag FUCK YOU! Now I’m worried ‘bout shit I haven’t thought about since high school Oh my god won’t you get over yourself I got little knick-knacks I keep stored up in boxes Where they collect less dust than on a shelf Piece of work with no posted positions Spider webs are good at catching dreams Derailed shipment of all motivation And hoping it’s not as bad as it seems
9.
Gen Y 05:32
Well the powers that be are holding me down Your cool frames can’t help you see underground I’m just a dog who’s unchained from the pound Who’s barkin’ his bark for the sake of the sound Top 40 charts are no friend to the hip But they’ll make up their own at the crack of a whip An infinite playlist that’s filled up with shit Fuel for the fires whose faucets don’t drip What can I say about this day in age? You gaze at your shoes but you’ve lost all the rage A new generation with a new kinda cage That connects to the world with the click of a page More provocative than old Tricky Dick’s Watergate It’s 1984, 30 years too late We keep buying in to the new police state We’re either apathetic or we can’t see straight Your telescreen is pretty, it’s mobile on the go To keep in tough with people that you barely even know An ADD society, so quick to diagnose With Instagram pics up against a firehose Nuclear era’s no longer the concern It’ll always be a threat but there’s new ways to burn The boomers are leavin’ so I guess it’s our turn But instantaneity overpowers the will to learn
10.
Well I’ve walked down some darkened alleyways Spent blackout nights in a fuzzy haze I’ve spent some nights sleeping on other people’s floors Well I’ve climbed out my share of windows And I’ve climbed up all I thought was climbable But now I plan to open up some doors You can come with me if you’d like to Or you can just kick back in your old chair But you can find good things all around you Or you can just rot in your own despair Or you can just rot in your own despair I’ve seen demons dressed as angels And I’ve seen others wearing plain clothes And of course it goes the other way around Well my brain stems are doing exercise As my body’s feeling electrified From the touch of my feet on solid ground You can call me whatever you’d like to You can throw me under the bus But don’t go acting like you have been lied to ‘Cause I’m just me and you’re just one of us ‘Cause I’m just me and you’re just one of us Well a home can act as a portal When you try to wrap your mind around the soul But you can dismiss that as hocus poc I’ve walked along many-a terrain And I’ve knocked about with different gangs But all I really wanted was to find some decent folk I guess through different times I have found them Though other times it was awfully hard to see But nobody’s expecting you to be perfect 'Cause perfect ain’t something that I’m trying to be 'Cause perfect ain’t something that I’m trying to be 'Cause perfect ain’t something that I’m trying to be 'Cause perfect ain’t something that I’m trying to be

credits

released September 9, 2017

Mixed, mastered, & recorded by Amy Hazel 2016-2017

Featuring:
Rick McLean - guitar, vocals
Jacob Swanson - bass, backup vocals
Mike McLean - drums
Kyle Ollah - fiddle (tracks 4 & 10)
Ian Vincent - backup vocals (tracks 2 & 7)
Amy Hazel - bass (track 10)
Millie & Brutus - barks (track 1)

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Rick McLean Duluth, Minnesota

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