|
1. |
|
|
|
|
Think you're so much smarter than all the other kids in town?
Well me and all my friends are here. We're gonna beat you down.
Saddle up, saddle up.
We're gonna ride your ass right out of town.
Gonna turn your world upside down.
You've been living in a dream world, you see.
Trying to take my job away from me.
Time to wake up and hear me say,
"Get out of my country."
Think you can just come up here with your book-reading skills?
Well don't you dare speak Spanish, boy. That shit will get you killed.
Saddle up, saddle up.
If we don't kick your ass, Jeff Gordon will.
So come and get your thrills.
You've been living in a dream world, you see.
US for not you, but me.
Cross the Mexican border today
and work for our car factories.*
*All lyrics in this song are satirical...in case that needed to be pointed out.
|
|
2. |
|
|
|
|
I can't go outside no more.
Mother nature's waiting for
a bone that she can pick right clean
and that bone might just be me.
I'm gonna tear this world apart.
With the corruption slowly closing in
Taking you and me
We're getting close to Armageddon.
Tell me you can see
All the fear and hate that takes the world outside these four walls.
I'll make my way back to see you after we burn it all.
Can't walk these streets no more
War dogs are waiting for
someone they can rip to shreds.
Everyone cover their heads.
We're gonna tear this world apart.
|
|
3. |
|
|
|
|
I don't go outside anymore.
'Cause the government made my sun too warm.
Deep down in your heart is black.
You just want my money and my cans and bags.
Don't listen to what they tell.
Finish off the Liberty Bell.
Trying hard to make me pay.
I'll just be myself if that's okay.
I don't go to church no more.
'Cause the pastor came and killed my lord.
Telling me to go to hell.
I'm telling you "Oh fucking well."
Don't listen to what they tell.
Finish off the Liberty Bell.
Trying hard to make me pay.
I'll just be myself if that's okay.
|
|
4. |
|
|
|
|
You've been running all around thinking you're worn and done.
You've been living in the past, it's time to think fast or your talent's done.
All this time your arguing back and forth never ends.
You've been living in the past, it's time to think fast.
You'd better make amends.
And you're trying, you're trying hard.
But you've gone too, you've gone too far.
And you're trying, you're trying hard.
But be honest with yourself, can you feel the fall?
Trying to convince yourself that you're still young and hard.
Well you wanna stay blind instead of listening to me, well you'd better start.
Try to sell the new CD--greatest hits. They don't buy.
You throw your hands up in the air and drown in despair saying, "Damn, they're right."
And you're trying, you're trying hard.
But you've gone too, you've gone too far.
And you're trying, you're trying hard.
But be honest with yourself, can you feel the fall?
This is the end, the end of your time.
|
|
5. |
|
|
|
|
Haven't seen my baby
since the sun went down.
Wonderin' if she's coming back
or if she'll stick around.
I feel the back wind a-blowin'
Blowing through all the trees.
I think it's time to move along
I think I'm just damn tired of saying please.
Haven't seen my darlin'
she ain't coming back.
Probably with some other guy
she's probably talking smack.
I feel the back wind a-blowin'
Blowing through all the trees.
I think it's time to move along
I think I'm goddamned tired of saying please.
I feel the back wind a-blowin'
Telling me to move along.
You already broke my heart, babe,
so I guess we can replace it with this song.
|
|
6. |
|
|
|
|
You lost to fame.
I think you know it.
You love play the game.
You fucking show it.
You say it's too late.
You're calling it fate.
Just how many lies can we take while you stick to your guns?
Profit in guns. Profit in guns.
BLOOD. FOR. OIL.
|
Dogjaw's demo/debut EP no one will remember that was recorded in a basement." Only about 10-15 CD-R copies were made, though we did a beautiful job with the packaging. Cobra Skulls have one of them if they didn't throw it out. In memory of Jim's dog Freckles (aka Fuckles).
released February 6, 2011
Jim Price - vocals/guitar
Kyle Wagoner - drums
Tim Ryan - guitar
Caleb Davis - bass
Landon Shirwin - backing vocals
Recorded and mixed by Brandon Irwin in Tim's basement.
