(I Wanna Be) Dead By Christmas
I don't like Mistletoe, or building coal-eyed men out of snow.
There's something bout' the Holiday that always depresses me.
Everytime I hear "Jingle Bells", "Deck The Halls", or "Noel",.
It brings out all my suicidal tendencies.
Dear Santa, I wanna be....
(CHORUS)
Dead by Christmas.
Dead by Christmas.
Dead by Christmas.
Won't you believe? I wanna be...
Dead by Christmas.
Dead by Christmas.
Dead by Christmas.
Or, at least by New Year's Eve.
I could hang myself with blinking lights from the rafters one wintry night,
As the carolers sing, outside,"Be of good cheer".
Or, I could throw myself off a bridge like Jimmy Stewart almost did,
In that stupid movie they show every year.
(REPEAT CHORUS)
Maybe I'll hurl myself in the way of Santa Claus and his sleigh,
Trampled by the prancing hooves of eight reindeer.
Or, maybe I'll go out like Johnny Ace, a bullet in the head is no disgrace,
Whatever it takes, I hate this time of year.
(REPEAT CHORUS)
JUST A SONG
This is not a song about a girl.
It ’s not a song about a car.
It ’s not a song about falling in love, breaking up and all that stuff.
It ’s just words and guitar.
This is just a song, about two minutes and thirty-one seconds long.
Three simple chords that anyone can play,
Just a song that has nothing to say.
This is not a song about me.
It ’s not a song about you.
It ’s not a song about the everyday everythings that everybody everywhere
Have to go through.
This is just a song, and everybody can sing along,
You can make the words up as you go
Or, you can hum the melody through the parts that you don’t know.
(Like This)
Hmmm hmm hmm hmm
Hmmm hmm hmm hmm
(Everybody Now)
Hmmm hmm hmm hmm
Hmmm hmm hmm hmm
(BRIDGE)
You ’ll never hear it on the radio.
You ’ll never see it on MTV.
It ’ll never be the number one Top 40 hit but that’s ok.
It was never meant to be.
This is not a song about love.
It ’s not a song about hate.
It ’s not a song about anything, in other words, and after all, anyway,
What difference does it make?
This is just a song, it ’s almost over now, it won ’t be long.
Just one more line after this one and then,
I ’ll sing the title and that’ll be the end.
That was just a song.
WHEN I GROW UP
When I grow up, gonna be rock star,
Become President, drive a race car,
Gonna move to Montana, or Madagascar,
When I grow up.
When I grow up, gonna make a billion, or two,
Buy a pickup truck, grow a fu-manchu,
Gonna smoke cigarettes like all the big kids do,
When I grow up.
(BRIDGE)
When I grow up, I ’m gonna be cool,
I’ll be the biggest wheel in my whole school.
When I grow up, gonna be a football player,
Win the Super Bowl and then run for Mayor,
Gonna marry that chick on Buffy the Vampire Slayer,
When I grow up.
When I grow up, gonna ride the rodeo,
Write a best-selling novel, star in a Broadway show,
Gonna know everything that there is to know,
When I grow up.
(BRIDGE)
When I grow up, I ’ll be on every magazine,
I’ll be the latest rage of stage and screen.
When I grow up, gonna get stuck
Working a dead-end job, living in a suburban rut
Gonna have a wife and kids, and a dog, and a mortgage, just like every other
dumb fuck.
When I grow up.
When I grow up.
When I grow up.
If I ever grow up.
I DON’T CARE (IF YOU LIKE THIS SONG, OR NOT)
Cynicism and boredom have been in fashion too long.
This is not another disaffected teen-angst song.
There ’s no revolution, only feigned apathy.
And your indie-cred bullshit means nothing to me.
(CHORUS)
I want something different, I want something real.
I want something better, that’s the way I feel.
I want something more than the something I’ve got.
And I don’t care if you like this song or not.
Pledge your allegiance by the cut of your hair,
Your drug of choice, that T-shirt you wear.
No reason to bother with being yourself
When everyone knows that disillusionment sells.
(REPEAT CHORUS)
Suicidal martyrs have had their day,
Lyrical geniuses with nothing to say.
This is not a love song; it’s a call to arms
And, if you can hear it, sound the alarms.
And say….
(REPEAT CHORUS)
METH LAB BLUES
I 've got the back lot in the trailer park.
I 've got foil on the windows to keep things dark.
I 've got a brand-new, ice-blue Dynaglide,
and a pit bull tied up right outside.
I 've got Slipknot blasting late into the night.
I 've got the neighbors all thinking that something ain't right.
They’re wondering bout' the noise and the funny smell.
I just hope I don't blow the trailer park to Hell.
(CHORUS)
Running a Meth Lab,
Sometimes I sling a little weed.
Running a Meth Lab
That's my moneymaker
So, if you’ve got the need for speed,
Then I ’m the man you need to see.
Down to the truckstop, get supplies for the lab,
Iodine and a case of Ephedrine tabs.
Cook it all down the Nazi-Method way,
Cut it with M.S.M. and throw in some M.E.K.
(CHORUS)
I 've got a .44 Magnum that I wear on my hip,
and an AK-47 with an extra clip.
Police scanner keeps me up with the Feds.
Fuck with me D.E.A. man and you'll end up dead.
(CHORUS)
- Copyright
2005 Clint Coker