1. |
What He Done in Weed
02:44
|
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2. |
Beans and Ketchup
03:07
|
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3. |
My Lady California
02:56
|
|||
|
My fields, they won't yield
A shred of precious grain
No, Adam's curse was never worse
Than on these fruitless plains
Those sweet Sierra sirens
Are singing out my name
I'm headed west for a treasure chest
And to stake my rightful claim
I rove through her orange groves
As they glisten with the dew
I take her hand, sift those sands
And wash away the blues
My lady California
Has a halo around her hills
My dreams unfurl in her golden curls
And her silken dollar bills
She'll have you shriek Eureka!
Like she's done for every guy
Then she'll have you pinched, lynched
And reaching for the sky
My lady California
Is a harlot and a saint
I headed west for a treasure chest
Where dreams unfurled in her golden curls
'Til I starved and bled and I lost my head
To that west coast Salome
|
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4. |
Pups
02:30
|
|||
5. |
Fat o' the Land
04:30
|
|||
6. |
Poor Little Thief
03:48
|
|||
|
Hey there, my shiverin', quiverin' guest
My, what a panic that beats in your breast
Don't scamper and scuttle away in your haste
See, I lay down the broom and give up the chase
Let's bury the hatchet 'tween rodent and man
You starve and you steal; hell, I understand
I won't miss a bread crumb, not in the least
To you, that dear morsel is a bountiful feast
Were you driven inside by winter's brash hand
By the cold barren snow that clings to the land
Your burrow unearthed by the push of a plow?
Well, no treasure stays buried long in this world, anyhow
You see, little mouse,
That's the state we're all in
Payin' penance to no one,
For God-knows-what sin
We dream and we scheme
And it all gets shot to hell
Between men and mice,
I think death can hardly tell
Still little mouse, count your losses as gain
Today is the only day pluckin' at your brain
See, me, I've got yesterdays hot on my tail
And tomorrow waits in ambush just down the trail
|
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7. |
Ol' Susy's Place
02:57
|
|||
8. |
Mice
02:23
|
|||
9. |
Hollywood
03:29
|
|||
10. |
A Bad Thing
02:47
|
|||
11. |
Best Laid Schemes
04:33
|
|||
|
Aching bones and blistered hands
Banished from my promised land
Home is whiskey and a filthy joke
Faces veiled in the sultry smoke
I am marked like fabled Cain
Brother crying from the crimson stain
Guilt dips like a willow tree
And ripples through your memory
My best laid schemes
Are tearing at the seams
My bluster fades
And the dust reclaims its own
I will falter and bend
When Jerusalem descends
And your smiling wide
Beside the judgment throne
So rescue me from years of toil
And sow my flesh in fertile soil
From that field, may I arise
A harvest ripe for paradise
|
||||
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