Friday, December 18, 2009

you can catch him at church every once in a Sunday,
the back pew always seems to save him a seat.
where the booze sweating out from saturday night,
gets met with the tear running down his cheek.

Lord know's he loves his whiskey and women,
won't let a good time pass him by.
loves this life he has been given,
is going to till the day he dies

deep within the body of a sinner,
a saints heart does lie
would walk through fire for friends and family,
never afraid to lay down his life

to stubborn to give in to the devil,
his pride won’t let God have his soul,
he hasn't lost his sense of direction,
he's just taking the long way home

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

no matter how I say it, I'm gonna say it wrong

no matter how I say it,
I’m gonna say it wrong.
so I’m hoping I can reach you,
through the medley of this song,

I sat down here with this bottle,
to try and find the words.
to try and make up for,
all the pain and hurt.

you know I love you baby,
and I tried so hard to be.
everything that you deserve,
and needed me to be.

but I fell into my weakness,
lost in selfish pride.
so now I know your leaving,
and I’m alone on this ride.

and I know that I can’t stop you,
you’re still gonna go away.
but I wish I had the magic words,
that could somehow make you stay.

I could stand here looking back,
to see what I could have done.
or stand here staring at the future,
hoping someday you come home.

but the truth is I’m lost here,
without you by my side.
you’re the one that hit that spot inside me,
that made me feel alive.

I know how bad I hurt you,
and I cannot make it right.
I asked him to take care of you,
when I talked to God last night.

and even though it hurts me,
to watch you go away.
I thank him for all the time we had,
each night when I pray.

as I close this song off,
I just wanted you to know.
I’m sorry for how I hurt you,
and feel it each step as you go.

so goodbye my baby,
I hope that you can find.
everything you’re needing,
to make you happy in this life.

and if this road should ever,
bring you back to me.
I hope by then I‘m strong enough,
to be the man you need.

Friday, December 11, 2009

telling everybody how the worlds gone wrong

people are greedy, people need to share,
we gotta solve these problems, why dont people care
preaching to the choir, about everything
this greedy world and all the suffering

wants so bad to fix it, all we gotta do,
is quit being greedy,taking as much as we do,

thats what she's preaching, as she goes to work each day,
while she's ...

typing on her blackberry, talking on her phone,
telling everybody how the worlds gone wrong


people want to cage me, tell me who to be,
they think they know the answers, and how this world should be
just to greedy to let each other be free.
someone gotta change it, set this world right,
stand up to this opression, fight the good fight,
thats what he's preaching, to all his friends each day
while he's...

smoking on his peace pipe, toking on his bong,
telling everbody how the worlds gone wrong

the crazy old lady sitting on the train,
bitching about how people, treat each other these days,
she says i love everybody, until they treat me this way,
but no one wants to listen, all turn their heads away
she gets a little louder, just trying to exclaim,
but no one wants to listen to what she has to say,
that's why i keep...

strummin on his guitar, singing his song,
telling everybody how the worlds gone wrong

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Stop the hate

i’ve got a soul that.. lusts for freedom,
i've got a heart that.. cries for change.
i’ve got a pounding head from last night,
an aching back from.. yesterday.

yes we might all be different,
but in the end lord.. ain’t we.. all the same.
And if we are lucky a chance tomorrow,
to wake back up and.. play this.. crazy game.

we’ve got to.. lose this hatred,
growing deep down.. in our souls,
we’re all just searching for the answers,
that will somehow.. make us whole.

yes this worlds not perfect,
Hell it ain’t never.. gonna be.
But what the hell is perfect.
I’d much rather.. be free.

so before we start our judging,
of what.. one another do,
why don’t we just start loving,
the way God.. told us to.

this world can be so empty,
when you go through.. it alone,
the world can look so ugly,
looking down on it.. from your throne,

but ain’t the real beauty,
held within us.. each and everyone,
all part of the big picture,
that can never.. come undone,

so before we start judging,
of what.. one another do,
why don’t we just start lovin',
the way God.. told us to,

I’ve got a soul that.. lusts for freedom,
I’ve got a heart that.. cries for change.
I’ve got a pounding head from last night,
an aching back from yesterday...

Sunday, November 15, 2009

Don't blame me, i voted for Ron Paul

Don't Blame meeeee,
I voted for Ron Paul.
Don't Blame meeeee,
As we watch this nation fall.
Don't Blame meeeee,
I wanted to save you.
From a gov-ern-ment,
hell bent to enslave you.

These day's im scared... to turn on the morning news.
That tells me if I breathe... I might catch the swine flu.
Or the preaching about... how we need to save health care.
Or the protestors... yelling at the town fairs.

To tell the truth... Im a little fed up,
These politicians... someone needs to call their bluff.

Yes we have problems... dont get me wrong.
Only they can fix them... if you listen to their song.

But if you ask me... I have more faith in me and you.
We are the only ones... that can pull us through.

If we give more power... to the government.
Well when's the last time... they had a good dollar spent.

All the problems,
they just exasterbate it.
Their solutions,
heaping piles of bullshit.

Let's get back... to basic common sense.
Our kids futures... their already spent.

Clinton claimed,
everyone needed homes,
told the banks,
to hand out all these bad loans,

now we hit a point,
where no one can pay them back
the bubble burst,
our dollars not worth jack.

so Bush decides... we have to bail them out,
handing out trillions... to those with political clout,
then the great Obama... says he has the answer,
we have to continue to feed... this credit cancer

well hey people... I think its time you woke up,
and realize this system... it's to corrupt,
this isn't a game... of left or right,
it's not a game... when it's not safe to go to bed at night,

so good people... if you wanna stand with me,
if you love this nation... and love being free,
let's take back... whats yours and mine,
from these... politicaly connected beuracratic swine,

and if your not ready,
you just wanna sit back,
and hope someone else,
will pick up the slack,

then......

Don't Blame meeeee,
I voted for Ron Paul.
Don't Blame meeeee,
As we watch this nation fall.
Don't Blame meeeee,
I wanted to save you.
From a government,
hell bent to enslave you.

waiting on a train

sitting, waiting on a train.
Lord I wish I knew her name.
that we don’t meet is quite a shame.
as we sit here waiting on a train.

have we met, I don’t know where?
oh the stories we could share.
if one of us would dare.
but we both sit there lost in stare.

time is slowing passing by.
with it moments by and by.
occasionally catching a glimpsing eye.
what might have been becomes a sigh.

as I sit here, on a train.
lord I wish I caught her name.
we never met it’s a crying shame
what might have been goes down the drain.
as I sit here, on a train

Sunday, November 1, 2009

if you can't find heaven here

two brothers caught camping in the pourin’ rain,
got soaked to the bone when that storm came,
now they huddled up together for the rest of the night,
already forgot about that mornin’s fist fight,



they’ll protect each other through anything,
doesn’t brotherly love have a heavenly ring.

way too often we all lose sight,
of all of the beauty that is our lives,
step back for a second and it might seem clear,
that everything your needin’, lord it’s all right here.


it was Friday morning when she got the call,
now all her problems, lord they seem so small,
driving fourteen hours through the sleet and snow,
hoping to see daddy for’ god calls him home.

she hadn’t talked to her sister since they had that fight,
over that boy on homecoming night,
as the door swings open they meet in embrace,
as their tears got blended on each other’s face.



way too often we all lose sight,
of all of the beauty that is our lives,
step back for a second and it might seem clear,
that everything your needin’, lord it’s all right here.


he was sittin’ with molly on that ol’ porch swing,
his hands were shaking as he pulled out the ring,
she had waited so long for this day to get come,
he had cried when he told momma he had found the one.


way too often we all lose sight,
of all of the beauty that is our lives,
step back for a second and it might seem clear,
that everything your needin’, lord it’s all right here.


if you can’t find heaven in what you have,
then you mighta lost sight of the bigger path,
if you can’t find heaven in what’s surrounding you,
how you gonna find it when this life is through,

it takes a step back from that fast pace,
to see you’re surrounded by Amazing Grace.

the man in the bottle


the man in the bottle is strong,
the man in the bottle is brave,
the man in the bottle, wont be here tomorrow,
and he's digging me into my grave,

I saw her last night at the barroom,
she looked just as pure as the snow,
with dreams of young ages, uncorrupted faith yes,
and the tenderest heart of a saint

I wanted so badly to love her,
wanted her body with mine,
wanted to remember, the taste of that pureness,
that my heart hath but known, once a time


I searched for the words in the bottle,
the magical things I could say,
as all that I needed, was the right words indeed yes,
to turn her attention my way

the man in the bottle he knew this,
this was his chance to move in,
taking over my weakness, he moved with great swiftness,
and use my intentions for sin,

his silver toungue eroded her pureness,
convinced her to play in his game
and with all of his danger, his charm, and his favor,
he took all that pureness away,


Cause the man in the bottle is strong,
and the man in the bottle is brave,
but the man in the bottle, wont be here tomorrow,
and he's digging me into my grave

I saw her last night at the barroom,
she looked just as pure as the snow,
with dreams of young ages, uncorrupted faith yes,
and the tenderest heart of a saint

and I wanted so badly to love her,
wanted her body with mine,
wanted to remember the taste of that pureness,
that I hath but known once a time,

but the man in the bottle is strong,
the man in the bottle is brave,
the man in the bottle, wont be here tomorrow,
and he's turned me into his slave


yeah kris, I think I might just stole your song....

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Them hills that I come from.

Let me tell y’all a story bout them hills that I come from.


We might not clean up all pirty,
might not shine our boots up nice.
When we head straight to the bar room,
from the game on Friday night.
We like sausage in our gravy,
like Jack Daniels in our tea.
If your say that shit ain’t pirty,
well it sure looks good to me'e'e'.

No matter how you slice it,
when it’s all been said and done.
I can tell ya I’m damn prouda',
them hills that I come from.


so don’t you go a askin, me to go a shavin',
or trim'in down this hair.
Or trading in these old overalls,
for them fancy clothes you wear.

I might look a little rough around the edges,
hell I'm rough the whole way through.
but I ain’t heard none of y'all ladies a complainin',
when I’m snuggled up next to you' ou' ou',


i might not clean up all pirty,
might not shine my boots up nice,
when i go straight to the barroom,
from the woods on friday night,
i like sausage in my gravy,
like jack daniels in my tea,
if you say that shit ain't pirty,
well it sure look good to me' e' e',

no matter how you slice it,
when it all been said and done,
i can tell ya' im damn prouda,
them hills that i come from,


And for those of you that don’t like it,
who think we oughta change our ways.
who say this way of life is outdated,
we’ve gotta get with the days.

I ask you to look in the mirror,
before you start throwing stones.
As it’s easy to start judging others,
looking down here from your thrones.

but in the end we’re all different,
yet we’re all the same.
And those of y’all that don’t get that,
well it’s a crying sha' a' a'me.

And we’re just gonna keep on a livin',
the way that we see fit.
Until the good lord comes callin',
and that’ll be the end of it.

Until then go'head n’ mock us,
if that’s whatch'a need to do.
To make yourself feel better,
cause we won’t sell our souls the same as you.


We might not clean up all pirty,
might not shine our boots up nice.
When we head straight to the bar room,
from the mines on Friday night.
We like sausage in our gravy,
like Jack Daniels in our tea.
If your saying that shit ain’t pirty,
well it sure looks good to me'e'e'.

No matter how you slice it,
when it’s all been said and done.
I can tell ya I’m damn prouda,
them hills that I come from.

Sunday, October 4, 2009

I just call her the wind.

I just call her the wind.
She blows into and out of my life just as fast.
When I hit my lowest points, and need someone to help me feel again he sends her to me, to help awaken my senses, to breathe the breath of life back into my body. To give me the hunger and ambition to look for more.

But then he takes her away from me just as fast as he puts her in.
Maybe its because I’m not ready.
Maybe it’s because I’m weak.
Maybe its because I’m supposed to remain a lost soul, floating through this world meeting and helping other lost souls along the way.

And these angels are just sent to me and my greatest moments of weakness to help me feel again.
But gone just as fast as they show up.
And I just call her the wind.

Friday, September 11, 2009

Don't Tread on Me!

Don’t Tread on Me!
I won’t go easy.
Don’t Tread on Me!
I’m doing just fine!

I don’t need,
your hand to feed me,
Me and God,
we’re doing just fine.

I was born,
the son of a farmer.
I learned to work,
the fields all day.

When the work is done,
I reap my rewards.
As I’ve earned
the right to play.

So,

Don’t Tread on Me!
I won’t go easy.
Don’t Tread on Me!
I’m walking the line!

I don’t need,
your hand to feed me,
Me and God,
we’re doing just fine.

Now your saying,
you don’t like this country.
Or what’s became,
our way of life.

You preach of change,
that your gonna save us.
All I have to do,
is give up what’s mine.

Don’t get me wrong,
I don’t mind helping.
I’ve got nothing ,
but love for my fellow man.

But when you go reaching,
your hand in my pocket.
And you’re trying
to take my land.

To give to some
big corporation.
Well I think it’s time,
I make my stand.

Don’t Tread on Me!
I won’t go easy.
Don’t Tread on Me!
I’m walking the line!

I don’t need,
your hand to feed me,
Me and God,
we’re doing just fine.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

But that's just me, I play the clown

I met this girl it felt so special, made me feel so pure.
Like all my life I had a disease and now I found the cure.

I wish that time could have petrified with how I felt right there.
The world was free, and just for me, floating without a care.

But just as fast as time stood still, it all came crumbling down.
I found that she had another man and she’d been fooling around.

Using me to pass the time, cause he was not around.
But that’s just me, I play the clown.

Oh that’s just me, and that’s my story.
Oh that’s just me, and how it goes.
A love that’s pure I don’t deserve it.
For all the years I fooled around.


So I’ll go on, and keep on playing.
This silly game that we call life.
My aching heart, will keep on breaking.
My desperate soul, will search again.
I’ll fall down, and get up and start a climbin’.
Till she knocks me down again.

But that’s just me, I play the clown.
Oh that’s just me, and that’s my story.
Oh that’s just me, and how it goes.
A love that’s pure I don’t deserve it.
For all the years I fooled around.

A love that’s pure I don’t deserve it.
For all the years I fooled around.

Monday, July 27, 2009

down at the, Coal Bucket Saloon

motorcycles lining the parking lot,
as far as the eye can see,
from the distance you hear the rumblin’,
of more of them fillin’ the streets,

the main stage show might be over,
but the real fun’s bout to begin,
so round up all of them piggy’s,
head'em on back to the pen.

the dance floor looks like a barnyard,
fille with leather-clad, furry ol’ men,
and the girls are all shootin’ down whiskey,
workin’ the nerve to jump in,

the people here might not be pretty,
but a funner group you’ll never meet,
just a hootin’ and hollerin’ and carrying on,
as they’re all stompin’ their feet.

the boys here like to get rowdy,
so bouncers just give’m some room,
we don’t need no Patrick Swayze,
down at the … Coal Bucket Saloon.


now the place’s gettin’ crowded,
the girls have drunk up their nerve,
they’re headin’ out in the middle,
riling up all the herd,

you can hear the crowd getting louder,
the real show’s bout to begin,
the laws of acceptable behavior,
well here they’re able to bend.

when the girls start takin’ their clothes off,
fella’s just give’m some room,
things tend to get crazy,
down at the … Coal Bucket Saloon.

the dance floor looks like a barnyard,
filled with leather-clad, furry ol’ men,
and girls all shootin’ down whiskey,
workin’ the nerve to jump in,

people here might not be pretty,
but a funner group you’ll never meet,
just a hootin’ and hollerin’ and carrying on,
as they’re all stompin’ their feet.

people here like to get rowdy,
so everyone give’m some room,
everyone likes to get crazy,
down at the … Coal Bucket Saloon.

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Chances are…..

chances are,
I’ve done too wrong for her to stay,
chances are,
she won't care what I have to say,
I’ll end up sad and lonely tonight,
chances are…

the odds are stacked against me,
no matter how I play,
should just let her leave,
she was too good for me anyway,
chances are…


I don’t know why,
I tried to make it work in the first place,
spending all this effort,
was really such a waste,
might as well,
let it happen, and just deal with the pain,
chances are…

but if it weren’t for taking chances,
and going against the odds,
I would never had the chance to hold her body,
so tightly in my arms.

working up the courage,
to ask her out on that first night,
never thinkin’ I had a chance,
but she looked so pretty in that moonlight,
and when I picked her up that Friday,
man what a sight,
and I’m not gonna let her get away this easy,
not without a fight,
chances are…

chances are,
I can convince her to stay,
chances are,
I’ll make it up to her some way,
chances are,
I can find the right words to make her stay,
and if I’m lucky,
I won’t end up alone tonight,
chances are…….

Monday, June 22, 2009

Let Freedom Ring.


I saw a caravan full of gypsies traveling all around this land,
trying to make sure and take in all they could see.
I saw wild horses running in a wide open field,
bucking and galloping so loud and proud,
as they made their way across the prairie.



I saw a group of teenagers on an old rope swing,
sneaking off sips of ol’ Jim Bean,
workin’ up the courage to take the plunge,
someone’s gonna make it from that top rung,
and everyone wondering which one it would be.





I saw all the things that we have all forgot,
in our daily jobs where we get brainwashed,
and forget what happiness, it really means.

That’s what I saw when I looked into her eyes,
as she told me stories from somewhere inside,
reminding me what it really meant to dream.

All these pictures running through my mind,
took me to a better place and time,
and they all seemed to center around just one thing.




And as I snuck in for that first kiss,
the fireworks that went off, which really gave the final gist,
of just what this girl she meant to me.

As the kiss was over, I took off my hat,
threw it in the air right where I was at,
yelling out loud
let freedom ring.







I saw little barefoot kids running round in the creek.
I saw a climber striving for the final mountain peak.

I saw a soldier who just came back from the war,
knowing exactly what he was fighting for,
kissing the ground as he reached our soil,
yelling out loud,
let freedom ring.

That’s what I saw when I looked into her eyes,
as she told me stories from somewhere inside,
reminding me what it meant to really dream.

All these pictures running through my mind,
took me to a better place and time,
and they all seemed to center around one thing.

As I snuck in for that first kiss,
the fireworks that went off, which gave the final gist,
of just why this angel was sent to me.

All I could say as I took off my hat,
threw it in the air right where I was at,
yelling out loud
let freedom ring.

Sunday, June 21, 2009

The freedom in her eyes.

hair as dark as midnight,
skin as pure as snow,
a pretty smile that stretched on forever,
wherever she would go,
the way she laughed so gently,
the soft touch of her hand,
there was magic in every moment,
that could melt down any man.

inspired so much by this lady,
I couldn’t begin to summarize,
but nothing quite as amazing,
as the freedom in her eyes.


the way they craved adventure,
they were always on the go.
they would drift off in her thoughts,
wherever her mind would roam.
enjoying everything surrounding them,
not willing to sit around and just go stale.
watching the entire world around them,
taking in every detail.

not a thing being taken for granted,
that others might pass right by.
not by this amazing lady,
with freedom in her eyes.

hair as dark as midnight,
skin as pure as snow.
a pretty smile that stretched on forever,
wherever she would go.
the way she laughed so gently,
the soft touch of her hand.
there was magic in every moment,
that could melt down any man.

inspired so much by this lady,
I couldn’t begin to summarize,
but nothing quite as amazing,

as the freedom in her eyes.

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

that big ol' hat don't make ya a cowboy.

(talking)
he came a struttin' in the room like the cock of the walk,
with his shined up boots and his 10 gallon hat,

turning all the heads with his fancy duds,
all the girls began to flock to where he was at,

just a stylin' and profilin' making sure everybody saw he was "a real cowboy",
when the old man next to me in overalls,
turned and said:

(singing)

that big ol' hat don't make you a cow’boy,
them shiny boots ain't never rode,
my muddy boots been out breakin' stall’ions,
bet that sucka ain't never hauled a load,

if he knew what it took to be a cow’boy,
that fool would up and run away,
I’ve been shovelin' shit out the barn all morn’in’,
and after this beer,...
I gotta get back to mowing hay,

(talking)
see a real cowboy don't walk around all cocky,
cause a cowboys work can humble any man,
and I have half a mind to go’in sock him,
knock him flat, right there where he stands,

but spendin' the afternoon with the sheriff,
that hay won’t ever… get in the barn,
so I’m gonna finish this beer and get on outta here,
get my ass back to the farm,

son you just make sure you remember,
take this with you when ya go,
cause there's certain things in life,
(Singing)
that every man just ought’ a know,

like:


that big ol' hat don't make you a cow’boy,
them shiny boots ain't never rode,
my muddy boots been out breakin' stall’ions,
that sucka ain't never hauled a load,

if he knew what it took to be a cow’boy,
that fool would up an run away,
cause I’ve been shoveling shit out of the barn all morn’in’,
and after this beer,...
I gotta get back to mowing hay,

fiddle solo:

musical interlude:


Ive been shoveling shit out of the barn all mornin’,
and after this beer,...
I gotta get back to mowing hay,

fiddle closeoff:

Monday, June 15, 2009

You can't Dig yourself out of a hole.

he was broke,
down to his last buck,
just lost his job,
flat tire on his truck,

when they offered him a credit application,
promising free money that would just need to be paid back somewhere along the way.

he said no, without even flinching,
just continued walkin’ on his way.

had to get to the mill in time to put in an application,
then door to door to see if anyone needed any help today.

when I asked him why he turned down the credit,
that he knew he could use it to help him fix his truck,
he said I'll be back on my feet in no time,
right now I'm just down on my luck.

what their selling you with their credit,
might not cost you nothing but your soul,
when you fall into a pit,
the worst thing you can do is pick up a shovel,
cause son you'll never dig yourself out of a hole.

You can't dig yourself out of a hole.
That's something I thought everyone would know.
You gotta, strap up them boots and start a climbin’,
and you might have to tighten up that belt a notch or so,
but borrowing money is like pickin up a shovel,
and you can't dig yourself out of a hole.


now if you believe what I'm saying so far.
well keep your ears a peeled for what I'm bout to say.
the same thing holds true here for our great nation. and the trillions our government is throwing away.

our nation shouldn't be getting hit so hard by any company failing.
and bailing any of these failures out will just cause more harm.
and offering out more credit to those making bad decisions,
only pushes the problem out to later,
where instead of switching from caviar to ramen noodles,
more people will have to sell the farm.

So Mr. President I hope you’re listenin'.
cause this common sense my daddy taught me a long time ago.
you gotta quit handin’ out shovels to this great nation.
in the hopes that some how it will help us grow.
when you fall down into a pit, up is the only way you need to go,
and these shovels only let us go deeper.
and you can't dig yourself out of a hole.

You can't dig yourself out of a hole.
That's something I thought everyone would know.
You gotta strap up those boots and start a climbin’
And you might have to tighten up that belt a notch or so.
But borrowing money is like pickin up a shovel.
And you can't dig yourself out of a hole.

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

my island in the storm


in this dark and lonely wilderness,
I go through in my head,
woke up many a morning,
wishing I was dead,





I’ve had my fill of ups and downs, all along the way,
but I still woke up so lost and lonely, each and every day,
many would make the argument, that my soul cannot be saved,
to far gone on this road of wrong directions, that through my life I paved,



but somehow you look beyond what others could only see,
you’ve reached down deep inside, helping me to find me,

you took me by the hand, and walked with me through the storm,
and on this cold and lonesome journey, you made me feel so warm,





you show me light in darkness,
you show me hope in pain,
you show me love and kindness,
in the worst of mans known pain,


you teach me what is good in life, isn't always clearly marked as so,
you teach me what is bad in life, is put there to help us grow,

though many cannot seem to understand that, you still seem to try,
to shine your light upon them, to make them look for why,

and I hope that everyone one of them, gets to know you like I do,
gets a chance to see your glory, before their lives are through,

and lord we both know ill keep on sinning,
and wake up wondering why,
and we both know you'll keep on forgiving,
because we both know I try,


we will continue this walk together, just trying to find my soul,
so that we can end up together, and we will, this I know,



know that I appreciate your love, and that I won’t complain,
I won’t look down upon my hardships, or challenges in your name,

I thank you for my good times,
I thank you for my pain,
I thank you for all the broken hearts,
I’ve suffered along the way,


and I’ll just keep on a living, until my life is through,
knowing that you'll protect me, the way you always do,


this song ‘s for you sweet Jesus to thank you for your love,
and to remind me that sometimes in life we all need a shove,

so tomorrow I’ll start off again,
try to not do things so wrong,
and tomorrow evening I’ll sit back down again,
and write you another song,

Thursday, May 28, 2009

Singing my daddy's song

I saw her fight back the tear,
as she reached for her guitar,
I heard her say this one's a little special,
as I sat down at the bar,

she said I found these lyrics,
in my daddy's old suitcase,
he must have written some time ago,
back before he passed away,

I sat and wrote the music,
so I could sing along,
so I sort of wrote this with my daddy,
so I could sing his song.

you could feel the songs emotion,
as it poured out so clear,
you could see the deep connection,
that made her feel so near,

then it hit me like a dagger,
and made me miss my dad,.
wishing we were on a river bank fishing,
like all the good times we had.

then I sat there wishing I had something,
as special as that song,
that could connect me to those memories,
so I could sing along,

then I sat there thinking,
well then I guess I do.
it's all the things he taught me,
that stick with me like glue.
it's all the silly habits,
the whiskey running through my veins,
these things that were passed down,
to help me feel his pain,

it's the waking every morning,
not afraid to face the day,
after being up all night partying,
afraid to let the night go away,

it's the things I'll teach my son,
so he can sing along,
as I pass on the traditions,
as I sing my daddy's song.

It's the takin’ care of momma,
its the stickin’ to my word.
It's the bullheaded selfish pride,
that can make me seem absurd.

it's the hiding my emotions,
its the staying out all night.
it's the black eyes and bloody knuckles,
from pickin’ the fist fights.


It's all a part of what I'm singing,
each and every day.
that was written in the memories,
and the legends he would say.

so if you feel like listening,
here I am to sing along.
but don't you dare disrespect what your hearing,
because it’s my daddy's song.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Dewey Beach you free my soul

wait--in', wait--in', for--the,
road-to-freedom.
wait--in', for--the, time--to,
break-these-chains.
shed--in, the-wor'--ries, and-pres--sures',
of-this-city.
hop--in', on--my, motorcycle,
headed-on-my-way.

pack--in', noth--in', but—my,
self-flip flops-and-dreams.

leav--in', friends--clothes,
expect-ations behind.

gonn--a', live--it, up--like,
nothing-to-lose.

gonn--a', rock--out, and get--a,
little-nuts-on-booze.

best--part, is-eve--ry', one--there,
will--be, do--in', the-same.
and-an--y', one-who-is--n't,
on'--ly, has--their, selves-to-blame.

Dew--ey, Dew--ey,
Dewey--beach, I-love-you-so.
Dew-ey, Dew--ey,
beach-you-free-my-soul.

wait--in', wait--in', for--the,
time-when-I-can-roll.
wait--in', wait--in',
to-hop—on-that-bike-and-go.


shedd--in', the-inhi--bitions,
and-pressures-of-this-city.
cruis--in', down--the,
road-and-head-ing to the beach.

pack--in', noth--in', but--my,
self-flip-flops-and-dreams.
leav--in', friends--clothes,
and-plan-ing-all-be'hind.

gon--na, live--it, up--like,
nothing-to-lose.
gon--na, rock-out,
get-a-lit'l-nuts-on-booze.

best--part, is-ev--ery, one-there
will-be-doing-the-same.

and-an--y', one-who-is--n't,
o'--nly, has--their, selves-to-blame.

Dew--ey, Dew--ey,
Dewey--beach, I-love-you-so.
Dew-ey, Dew--ey,
beach--you, free-my-soul.

Monday, May 18, 2009

leave the judgin' to the man

Leave the preachin’ to the preacher,
Leave the teachin’ to the teacher,
Leave the eatin’ to the hungry,
Leave the cryin’’ to the sad,

Leave the lovin’ to the lover,
Leave the nursin’ to the mother,
Leave them all alone to do their own living,
in this world that they’re givin,
and trust that they will do it,
in the best way that they can

so before you start your crying,
cause you don’t think their trying,
just cause they’re not living,
by what you thinks the plan,

maybe its time you take a second,
its about damn time I reckon,
maybe you ought to step on back,
and leave the judging to the man


there are people cold and hungry,
just trying to feed their family,
and maybe they find ways to do it,
that you might not approve,
there are people wild and crazy,
just livin’ for their moments,
trying to find some happiness,
before their lives are through,

it’s all a part of living,
in this crazy world we’re given,
and in the end we all make decisions,
on how to play the crazy game,
maybe their idea of how to play it,
and the way you chose to weigh it,
well maybe they ain’t ever,
suppose to be the same.

it’s easy to sit and judge others,
by your own standards,
without looking into why’s,
of why, they live their lives their way.
but the only one we should be judging,
is on the other end of the mirror,
and that’s the only one we need to be impressing,
at the end of any day.

so the thoughts that I’m expressin’,
are hear if you want to listen,
and if you don’t wanna hear it,
just turn your ear the other way.

and Ill just keep on signing,
to the people that will listen,
about how the world might be better,
when there comes the day.

Where we can….

Leave the preachin to the preacher,
Leave the teachin to the teacher,
Leave the eatin to the hungry,
Leave the crying to the sad,

Leave the loving to the lover,
Leave the protectin’ to the brother,
Leave them all to do their own livin’,
in this world that they’re givin,
and trust they’re gonna do it,
in the best way that they can

before you start your whining,
because you don’t think their trying,
just cause they’re not living,
by what you think's the plan,
maybe its time you take a second,
its about damn time I reckon,
maybe you ought to step on back,
and leave the judging to the man

Friday, May 1, 2009

A revolution by the people, to put an end to this swine flu

wakin’ up this mornin’ turning on the morning news,
to the red alert warnings,
that now we can just sleep right through.

if your catching all their selling,
you’d probably go insane,
the planet’s warming, wall streets falling,
and everyone’s in pain.
switch the channel up one station,
and our president is leadin’ us all straight to hell,
eatin up all of our freedoms,
draining all our resources from the well.

I’m not sayin’ this shit ain’t scary,
and that we shouldn’t all care.
but if you keep on crying the sky is falling every time someone sneezes,
eventually we all quit paying attention for the flair.

as I finish my mornin’ coffee and get ready to meet the day,
another red alert, I’m not paying attention to anyway.

then I think it’s funny,
all these china men wearing doctor masks,
so I try to listen a little closer,
to see if maybe, some fat guy’s passin’ gas.
they tell me I need to hide from other people,
and everything I need to do,
because again the sky is falling,
here comes the Swine Flu.

everybody run and hide,
lock yourself inside your house,
tape your doors shut with duck tape,
and waist away on your couch.

I’m sorry if I’m not biting,
hell maybe this is the end,
but I don’t wanna go down a prisoner,
locked inside this cage you want me to build,
all to get your political point across,
about some seat we should have filled.

so to all of my good people,
being herded around like sheep,
by this crooked government and their puppet media,
that we all rely on so deep.

maybe it’s time we step back,
I think it’s way over due,
to look at the real problem,
these guys are our swine flu.

they feed us all these stories,
to manipulate us to believe,
we need to rely on them to save us,
in this web they try to weave.

maybe if they spent half the time they spend preaching;
and actually do their jobs,
then we wouldn’t be facing all these problems,
which will soon lead to angry mobs?

but maybe that’s what we need,
maybe its way over due,
a revolution by the people,
to put an end to this swine flu.

good god she makes me feel

storming down the driveway,
tires throwing gravel in the air.
saying to myself, this time I’m done with her,
man this time I swear,

I cant keep letting her get to me,
she’s driving me insane,
she can make me so damn angry,
I can barely stand the pain.

then I just start laughing,
thinking about the last time,
and how much fun we had making up,
over my daddies sweet red wine.

she makes me angry, makes me bitter,
makes me happy, makes me cry,
sometimes makes me feel so empty,
like I'm broke inside,

she brings out these deep emotions,
from somewhere deep within my soul,
she takes me on this rollercoaster ride,
chalked with all these highs and lows,

you ask me why I keep going back,
man what is your deal,
This woman might not always make me happy,
but good god she makes me feel.


like back when I was hurting,
after my father had died,
I built walls so thick around me,
and wouldn’t let anyone inside.

then god sent her to me,
wearing that sweet smile,
she tore those walls down so quickly,
the only girl that’s ever seen me cry.

there’s something special about a woman,
who can make you want to cry.
and when she makes you angry.
something’ magic in the anger,
that can make you feel alive.

when a woman can bring you to your knees,
and float you into the clouds,
bring out your manliest man,
and wake up your inner child.

all of these emotions,
brought out so pure as snow.
well that’s a special feeling ,
that every man should get to know.

so when you find her hold on tightly,
and just enjoy the ride.
she will break down all your barriers,
even your foolish pride.

and it won’t always be happy,
won’t always be sad,
but it will be as real as anything,
anyone has ever had.

she makes me angry, makes me bitter,
makes me happy, makes me cry,
sometimes makes me feel so empty,
like I'm broke inside,

she brings out these deep emotions,
from somewhere deep within my soul,
she takes me on this rollercoaster ride,
chalked with all these highs and lows,
you ask me why I keep going back,
man what is your deal,
This woman might not always make me happy,
but good god she makes me feel.

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

It's a good life, we ain't dead yet....

he was sitting there,
looking beat down
with his ripped shirt,
shootin’ whiskey down,

he looked like he,
had all he could stand,
with his muddy boots,
and his callused hands.

the scars on his face,
told the story how,
his hard working days,
knocked his life around,

when his beer was done,
he ordered another round,
looked over at me,
and started to smile.

through his missin’ teeth,
he looked at me and said
it’s a good life,
we ain’t dead yet.

I am here until I die,
and for that,
how could I dare to cry,
I get to live,
to see another day,
to kiss my wife,
to see my children play.

so through it all.
the good and the bad,
my life is great,
I won’t be sad,
I’ve earned my scars,
I can’t be upset
It’s a good life,
I ain’t dead yet


these calluses,
I’m thankful for,
and hopefully before I die,
I’ll get to have some more,

these muddy boots,
are a tribute to,
the type of work,
I was born to do,
this ripped shirt,
was a hand me down,
wore by my grandfather,
who built this town

I could sit here and whine,
about what I don’t have,
about how hard it is,
or where I am

but why would I,
curse this path,
that put me here,
where I could stand
on my own two feet,
so proud to say,
my life is great,
I wouldn’t want it any other way

I am here,
until I die
and for that,
how could I cry
I get to live,
to see another day,
to kiss my wife,
to see my children play

so through it all,
the good and the bad
my life is great,
I won’t be sad
I’ve earned my scars,
I can’t be upset,
it's a good life,
we ain't dead yet

Vacations in the Bottle

drinkin’ was a way of life,
in the backwoods town that I call home,
a place where a man wasn’t judged by the car he drove,
but the calluses on his hands, and the liquor he could hold.
and a place where Sunday mornings,
the pew’s were full, but so were the bar stools.

a town of hard working men,
who wake up not afraid to meet the challenges of the day,
but when you grow up climbing mountains,
I guess life can only be survived if your built that way.

family ties were tight and true,
there was nothing that a brother wouldn’t do,
a neighbor helped a neighbor out,
and that’s what life was all about,
in this little piece of heaven,
where I was raised,

but just as god had gifted the land,
with beauty of the mountains, rivers, valleys he painted with his own hands,
the devil couldn’t let the souls there live in peace,

he planted seeds of insecurities,
selfish pride, and materialistic dreams,
to make the people think their lives weren’t that grand.

then he stocked the shelves with liquor, so they could drink away their pain.

vacations in a bottle,
a place where a man can go, to go away.
to forget about his problems,
and the bills he has to pay.

these vacations in a bottle,
could help a man out from time to time.
but a man can quickly drown,
when they become a way of life.


so I guess this is the battle,
each man’s been facing since the dawn of time.
the top of the mountain and the bottom of the bottle,
are what a man is destined to find,
which one is up to him and Jesus,
and the rest of the story will only be told by time.

vacations in a bottle,
a place where a man can go, to go away.
to forget about his problems and the bills he has to pay.
these vacations in a bottle,
could help a man out from time to time.
but a man can quickly drown,
when they become a way of life.

He said they call me hippy,

he said they call me hippie',
as he sat down next to me,
he said I don’t need much in life,
I just love being free,

he said my name is hippie',
and I'm from' another time,
where people did things for purpose,
not just to chase' another dime.


at first I sat there thinking',
oh shit, here we go,
but after just a few minutes,
our conversation began to flow,

he told me he was born in this city,
before it grew so large,
then he moved out to the country,
where over his own life, he could be in charge,

I laughed and said, ain’t it funny,
my story is reverse,
I grew up in the mountains,
but that slow life I cursed,

I moved out here chasing' money,
and a change from those slow ways,
now I wake up missing the mountains,
each and every day.

Fiddle Solo....

our conversation stretched on for hours,
covering everything and nothing at all,
politics, religion,
pickin’ mushrooms in the spring,
leaves changing in the fall.

he said I don’t trust big government,
and where this country is headed,
I raised up my glass of PBR,
and said… man you just said it!

Fiddle Solo....

he story went on about rebuilding a town after a hurricane,
a pop up camp town in Alabama,
like living life out on the range,

we toasted to entrepreneurship,
as he told me about the way,
he earned extra money bootlegging for the thirsty laborers,
at the end of long hard days,

a dry town with a 5 o’clock curfew,
required someone to take a dare.
to get to the highway, required a 4 wheel drive, a little luck, and a prayer.

he said they call me hippie,
as he sat down next to me,
he said I don’t need much in life,
I just love being free,

he said my name is hippie,
I am from another time,
where people did things for purpose,
not just to move things down the line.


after what seemed like just moments,
but what took up most my day,
I turned and said to hippie,
I gotta get on my way,

I said till next time hippie',
thanks for sitting down next to me,
I said thank you to hippie',
for reminding me what it means to be free.

I told the bartender one more for hippie',
I have to be gettin' on my way,

and as I rose up from my bar stool,
I thanked God for Sunday mornings, good conversation, guys named hippie', and PBR at Cowboy Cafe.