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New Blues #5 - Walkin Talkin Blues

from New Blues by David P. Smith

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lyrics

I drank an Olympic-sized swimming pool filled with whiskey
I was planning on drinking a supertanker more
I’d given up on standing and walking upright
I’d taken up crawling on the floor
I had been learning lots of songs
about moles and lizards and birds that warbled and wobbled
and living alone in cabins on mountains
with shotguns and vats full of gin
Baffled by the ways of women
I had been writing lots of songs about blood and wine and cigarettes
I’d been drinking to remember instead of drinking to forget

I woke up in the morning and I drank five bottles of wine
started out walking upon the telephone lines
over emerald driving ranges department stores on fire
celebrities politicians hustlers hipsters hookers liars
tracks and shacks and strip malls
baseball diamonds
Smoking factories burning black trees a river running brown
just kept walking on those telephone lines right outta Skeleton Town

I left my head in a laundromat at the edge of town
fuckin thing was a fuckin idiot always acting like a clown
left my heart in a box at the side of the road
fuckin thing was disobedient wouldn’t do what he was told
Had to leave my liver in jar by the river
I’d told him more than once never yell give’er
beside the cellphone island in the shopping mall
where the Queens of High School gather to make important calls
the young bucks primp and preen discuss the gravity of their balls

I had seen the field of green where broken hearts all lie
I had spent one night in the room where losers sit and cry
I’d been walking above the road
that is paved with the hair and bones
of old lovers and lost friends
a road I thought would never end

I walked one thousand miles decided I would stop
that’s when I was accosted by a big ole cop
he said Son I’m gonna arrest you for walking in the air
I said Officer that ain’t fair I was not walking in the air
I was walking on them telephone lines
he said boy I don’t like your attitude you smell like cherry wine
I’m gonna pound your ass so fuckin hard you’ll be shittin out your mouth
you’re gonna wish that whore your mother never let you out
Now I was not enamoured by this turn of luck
being corn-holed by good ole boy would suck

I was quivering in my space boots
I was leaking from my meat flute
I was spraying in my diaper
I was praying for a sniper
to make a deadly intervention
just one bullet of prevention
But there was no need to fear
there was an answer to my prayer

You see suddenly from the sky that big ole cop was hit
he exploded like a jam jar his torso totally split
he’d been struck down from the heavens by a deadly drone
launched by King Obama upon his ebony throne

Well I headed into town man I had to share the news
I got the walkin on the telephone line walkin talkin blues
Well I headed into town man I had to share the news
I got the walkin on the telephone line walkin talkin blues
Well I headed into town man I had to share the news
I got the walkin on the telephone line walkin talkin blues

credits

from New Blues, released September 23, 2016
David P. Smith - accordion, vocals
Marek Tyler - drums
Dan Weisenburger - guitar

Recorded, engineered, mastered by Myke Hall @ MFH Studios in Victoria, BC, Canada

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David P. Smith Victoria, British Columbia

David P. Smith is a songwriter accordionist and multidisciplinary artist who in the past 18 years has released six full length recordings, numerous ep’s, and led a variety of musical projects that have consistently defied convenient genre classifications. ... more

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