1. |
Play It Cool
03:53
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We play it cool...
Smiles are prohibited
When we’re in the presence of a camera lens
Rarely do we ever expose our beautiful teeth
Our day job clothes are a felony
We can’t break the image that we’re marketing
Though I wouldn’t mind if the trend didn’t wear so tight
But I get high after every song
The spirit in the crowd’s got me speaking in tongues
My heart beats heavy to the pounding drum
And on it goes, like a secret nobody knows
We play it cool...
Meet us out back after we tear down
We'll spin the bottle, then we'll pass it around
Kiss our saviors in the dark
But Jesus, if your friends ain't cool
Then Jesus, I guess we're through
We play it cool...
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2. |
Beards
07:27
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Beards are for rock stars who are losing their hair…
(Part One)
Mrs. Savage gave birth to a son
On the eve of Independence Day
‘Said “He’s the one
Who will turn all the eyes of the girls in the ‘hood.”
It never really happened, she never understood
On his birthday, age of ten
He unwrapped a shiny Squire from his uncle Lenn
He could play every chord by the age of thirteen
‘Found himself some friends in Zimmy and Springsteen
If I play everyday, and let my curls grow
‘Won’t need the stars to align, just need to book a show... book a show!
Rock is for youngsters who have no other goal
No other goals, no other goals
By the time he was drinking age
There’d been five or more bands
But none had seen the stage
Except Johnny and the Savages, a black jean cast
In the county fair try-outs they never made past
New inventions carried him on
Down a road to viral stardom when he posted a song
There were 15-hundred views in a single day
The kindest of the comments said, “learn how to play”
When I leave this town, I won’t be coming back
I’m still stitching together the perfect plan of attack… of attack!
Bands are for loners who think nobody cares,
Nobody cares, nobody cares
On the morn of Thanksgiving day,
Mrs. Savage stuffed her turkey in a curious way
With a baseball bat and a stick of cinnamon
Distracted by the hope that she might see her son
That boy had a new family
They were waiting in a bar room off of one-seven-three
Ev’ry Thursday was his night on the open stage
Making sparse tips on a bus boy’s wage
When it’s my time to leave, no need to say good-bye
My fellowship of loners has no time to cry… time to cry!
Tears are for mothers who are losing their sons,
Losing their sons, losing their sons
(Part Two)
Popular bands have such crowns to behold
Mine’s wearing thin now that I’m growing old
But some jewels hide right under your nose
Encamp your mouth, cradle your lobes
Clothe your face when others are bare
Accent your smile, draw young girl’s stares
This is the treasure I’ve found...
Beards are for rock stars who are losing their hair
Losing their hair, losing their hair
I’m losing my hair...
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Starlite Radio Rockford, Illinois
Midwest Americana-pop for Rascal Souls
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