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1. |
One Fine Machine
02:54
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Me, myself and a hundred million others set out to break an egg. We traveled far through the muck to Fallopian, and oh so many of my comrades died along the way. I was the only one victorious; to penetrate and activate a life first world and middle class. I tried my best and my best was more than good enough for me. Now there’s a monkey on my back I call “Society”. He got a fishing pole he keeps out there in front of me. Baits the hook with butterflies and a bunch o’ lies I’ve seen on my T.V. You see, I meet my goals and my goals just get loftier, bless my soul ‘cause it’s never satisfied with where I am. I try my best but my best is never good enough. Never stop proving. Never stop improving. Never stop. Who could live in the present when it’s quite recommended to be discontented and climb a ladder that has no end, to praise and to flaunt an addiction to want? Cast my line to the stars again, it’s unprecedented and slightly demented as people unto their deaths defend this praising and flaunting addiction to wanting oh why can’t I be here with what is here? It’s not like me to be so down. I’ve become one fine machine, running on amphetamines. I’d like to lose my mind, he’s ever so unkind and shows no sign that he’ll ever change.
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2. |
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Danced, my, how we danced. Traveled far, swingin’ on stars. Stopped off here, just a few years to live our truth. All’s well, dead on arrival. Our God is wealth and She’s a pretty one. Sing praise, join the revival. All’s well, Sam sold a dream to everyone. All’s well, Sam sold a dream to everyone, each and everyone. Welcome to the west (oh boy!) we sure do love our stuff, but the thing about our things is that we’ll never have enough (it’s all right). And should we “buy some happiness” to even up the score, they’ll be advertisin’ everywhere to keep us wantin’ more (it’s all right). All’s well, business as usual. Our God is wealth and so we praise it. Work hard, dress up your cubicle. Make a baby, have the nanny raise it. Head down, bring home the bacon. 35 years ‘til you’re doin’ what you shoulda’ done. All’s well, look what you’re makin’. All’s well, Sam sold a dream to everyone. All’s well, Sam sold a dream to everyone. Now ain’t we havin’ fun? (an aside to my daughter Elaine) C’mon baby c’mon, pretty baby c’mon. Show me what you do-be-do, be you, baby c’mon.
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3. |
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She’s a damsel in dire distress. She’s a Budweiser stain in a dress. He’s a daring young man on a kind-of trapeze; a hangman’s noose in the sky hangs another dead savior up high. S’pose it could not have happened to nicer a guy, or so they tell me. Who shall save her now? Fast as I can, I raise both my hands. She’ll be the stuff that my nightmares are made of, and I won’t wake up. Hide the knives ‘neath the couch or the bed. Hide the bat ‘case she bash in my head. I can tell by the drink and the stink on her breath that the shit has buried the fan. Baby rips me one wide as she can. So I grab me a pillow and sleep in the van, comfy cozy. Who shall save me now, and tear at the seams of my foolish dreams? ‘Cause this is the stuff that my nightmares are made of and I can’t wake up. Built my life on a landslide, sewed my nose to’er backside, chained my heart to a tickin’ bomb. 5,4,3,2… please, somebody save me now. I’m lost on the seas of a deadly disease. This is the stuff that my nightmares are made of and I can’t wake up.
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4. |
American
04:14
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Kids with busted bubble dreams are packed in like sardines; ass to elbow, front to rear. Smells like pain and cheap cigars, blown in from the bars, I can taste the grief from here. Though I’ve worn these gloves too long,
fightin’ rights my ship of wrong. So hit the lights and cue my song, they tell me it’s American. Some men fight because they must, they’re fighting for the crust of a bread I’ve long dismissed. Me? I fight for piles of gold,
won’t stop until I hold every fortune in my fist. But this “pursuit of happiness” punched a hole right through my chest. It’s a good thing I’m a huge success! They tell me it’s American! Maybe I’ll wake up one day, hang ‘em up and walk away. Find a lake for fishing in, way up north of Michigan, where the folks don’t know my name, but they curse it just the same. Everybody understands, ain’t no meeting my demands. “Pry it from my cold dead hands”. They tell me it’s American.
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5. |
Meanwhile, The Housewife
01:55
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6. |
Land Fills
04:05
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Poor me, Grandpa swung down from a tree and he started his mission. “God’s” hand made him separate from the land, it’s my human condition. I’d love to reconcile, but my recycling pile cannot deny the fact. From birth I’ve been cancer to the earth with no chance of remission. Still she’s spinning around. Run her into the ground, We better turn this around, come around to the realization we are one. My, my, Grandpa burned up all the sky now the coasts are much wetter. I’ve seen I’m a cog in his machine and I’m really no better. I’d be a greener lover, but every creature comfort I’ve ever dreamed is mine. Land fills, convenience kills and we all die together. Is it too late baby, now it’s too late?
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7. |
Faded Glory
03:28
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Black Friday rises on a Thursday morning. Wonder what’s in stock? They’re lined up ‘round the block. Hey Wally, you shepherd to their flock by night! It’s 4am, Thanksgiving and they’re thankful to be locked outside your door!
Low prices, nobody sells for less. God save the children of Bangladesh. Faded Glory jeans from tiny hands cost next to nothing. Hey Wally, you’re the king of evil genius. Seems you won the war, you’re making more and more. Old Levi shut down U.S. stitching plants, put thousands out of work and now those thousands buy their wardrobe at your store. Everybody clap your hands! Stop! You don’t have to. Just because you can, you don’t have to. Low prices, always by any means. No rivals, blown ‘em to smithereens. Faded Glory comin’ to your town costs next to nothing ‘til you look around. So don’t look around. See Wally thumping his mighty chest! Is this America at her best? Faded Glory - ain’t it apropos? We’re middle classless with nowhere to go. Where we gonna go? (to Wal-Mart, I guess)
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8. |
Sunrise
03:33
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She was kissing my eyelids ‘til I opened them wide. My head of steam was but a dream, she had never left my side. Ride the simile northbound ‘til you reach higher plane. Forget about the roundabout. It drives you nowhere but insane. If you catch a sunrise, hold on to her tight. She will love you today and the rest of your life. I had only seen pictures, never came to this place. I just groaned and groused in the counting house above my nose, behind my face. But her voice sings right through me and it summons me home. To here and there and everywhere, to any joy I’ve ever known.
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9. |
Life Avenue
03:06
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Here we are, we don’t know what for. We got all we need but we’re fightin’ for more. Though we say – hey – I am okay, we still fight every day. And we spin, chasin’ our “tales”. Stories we live by that keep us in jail. Though we say – hey – I am okay, we still chase every day. It’s hell in the hamster wheel, runnin’ in place from all we feel. Imagine what we could do if we stopped those things we do and rode the love down life avenue. Ah you know, we don’t stand a chance when all our regrets come and ask us to dance. Though we say – hey – I don’t like that tune, it still sweeps us away. And those strings are so tightly wound, and all of our frets make such sorrowful sounds. Though we say – hey – I am okay, we still fret every day. It’s hell to be so afraid of changes to plans our hands have made. But oh, what our hands could do if they dropped those things they do and picked up love on life avenue. Grant us the will to rest and watch it all work out for the best. We’ll have a better view if we stop those things we do and ride the love down life avenue.
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10. |
Run (End Credits)
04:17
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Jeremy Facknitz Colorado
Jeremy Facknitz' style, continuously optimistic despite past battles with depression and alcoholism, epitomizes the strength of such confessional greats as Jim Croce and Gordon Lightfoot, with an obvious wink to Michael Penn in the chord changes, a nod to Radiohead in the rule-breaking, and an appreciation for melody and structure that would make Elvis Costello feel the torch had been passed. ... more
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