1. |
Sick Industry
03:44
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Sick industry demands
A mortal sin is shirking
Despite the busy hands
Your labor isn’t working
They’ll bid you best of luck
To speed you convalescence
Then while the chips are down
They’ll plan your obsolescence
A fluid market article
With circumstance the premium mover
Sick industry demands
You keep the mind from straying
Despite the busy hands
The labor isn’t paying
They give you a reward
It’s just a callow pittance
Which will, as time goes on,
Become your just remittance
A fluid market article
And idle hands the devil's playthings…
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2. |
Ambition
03:34
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You’ve got no love for turning points that don’t turn
And you lost your fire without money to burn
So you went and sought an apprenticeship role
Where you learned the fine points of selling your soul
You started yourself on the lowest of rungs
And learned to say “yes” In fifteen different tongues
You soon found yourself the unsavory side
Of your industry’s march - just beware of the Ides
Your ambition is the death of you
And I can’t understand for the life of me
If there is more to your picture
Than all that we can see
You found out each secret that you could uncover
Developed an ethic unlike any other
When playing the markets with your outsized principles
Any small margin could make you invincible
You climbed each ladder there was to be found
And kissed every foot that appeared on the ground
You started yourself on the lowest of floors
In a matter of time, you will sit on the boards
Your ambition is the death of you
And I can’t understand for the life of me
If there is more to your picture
Than all that we can see
You say you’ve no need for the things you can’t measure
You’ve forsaken love and you’ve forsaken pleasure
You’re forging alone when no man is an island
Prospecting the future in search of a diamond
Pursuing your gains with a ravenous intent
You say it’s a shame of the most grievous extent
To waste your existence on trivial things
From 9:29 until closing bell rings
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3. |
1965
04:17
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Somewhere in the city
There's a roadhouse where all of the local groups play
And the neighborhood feigns its indifference towards everything
Get to the hook - their attention span's waning -
But making them dance is remarkably easy,
It just takes some beer, a PA and a drum machine
Somewhere in a hovel
Not quite alive
I've been listening to a record
Wishing it were 1965
Somewhere with a guitar
There's a young man recording his debut foray
And he's paying for it with a pound of flesh every day
You're on the clock - it's an hourly business -
He'll go to the labels and ask for a deal,
They'll say: "Music is free, what the hell are you doing here?"
Somewhere with a Gibson
Not quite alive
I've been listening to a record
Wishing it were 1965
Somewhere in a high rise
There's a businessman giving his pre-scripted spiel
And he stokes Montecristos while closing the deal
Sign on the line and I'll make you all rich
At the end of the day, he will furnish his table
With souls of young men who are willing and able
Somewhere in a hovel
Not quite alive
I've been listening to a record
Wishing it were 1965…
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4. |
Young and Free
03:50
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You say you could go on forever
About the things you’d like to own
And I can’t fault you for your wanting
Just make sure that it’s small enough to carry home
I hope your mind won’t ever change
I hope your mind won’t ever change
God knows the rest won’t stay the same
You say you could go on forever
About the folks you’d like to see
And I can’t fault you for your thinking
As long you can set aside some time for me
I hope your mind won’t ever change
I hope your mind won’t ever change
God knows the rest won’t stay the same
You say that you could live forever
In your blithe and blissful youth
And I can’t blame you for your smiles
Just get them in before you’re too long in the tooth
I hope your mind won’t ever change
I hope your mind won’t ever change
God knows the rest won’t stay the same
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5. |
Penny Dreadfuls
03:12
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The writers all were better
When they all were country gentlemen
The books were so much finer
‘Fore the masses learned to read
Now all the publications
Feature most ignoble pens
They’re reserving all their precious ink
For lurid tales of highwaymen
‘Cause you can show your pearls
To every worker worth his mettle
But he won’t waste his hard-earned cents
Unless they’re penny dreadfuls
Blue collar men and women
Seek escape from all their labors
And novel ways to dispose
Of their Sunday leisure time
They spend their pence on fiction books
In these immodest ages
They’re all abuzz for shocking yarns
On freckled pulpy pages
‘Cause you can show your pearls
To every woman worth her mettle
But she won’t buy the merchandise
Unless it’s penny dreadful
They’ve got their lines of credit
And investments to return
And talent, first and foremost,
Is of secondary concern
The characters are static
And the formula repetitive
It’s a public traded business
And so thoroughly derivative
There’s a million idle workers
Plus the children and the wives
There’s an industry expanding
And a single bottom line
‘Cause you can show your pearls
To every printer worth his mettle
But they’re rather make their millions
They’d rather make their millions
They’d rather make their millions
On a billion penny dreadfuls
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6. |
Supply and Demand
02:26
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7. |
Pachyderm
04:26
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You may be massive
And you might even feel invincible
For just a moment
But every moment is a moment for the ages
And every age is just a series of mistakes
And you can see above them
But they won’t soon forget the backs you stepped upon
It’s not their business but they’d like to see a statement
Proving that they owe more than you
You’re hoarding all your spoils in plain view
Of the hungry gutter rats
But have you lost your fear of rodents?
Taking all their time to build your
Own self-serving memories
But God forbid they ask for ivory
You utilize your largesse
Procuring piles of fodder for your appetite
Two hundred kilograms
Is just enough to keep your family from starving
While the neighbors are content with two or three
And in turn, you’ve got them guessing -
Searching for the reason or account of why
You’re so well-heeled
Is it about the blessings you’ve been counting?
Is it about the clothes you wear?
You’re hoarding all your spoils in plain view
Of the hungry gutter rats
But have you lost your fear of rodents?
Taking all their time to build your
Own self-serving memories
But God forbid they ask for ivory
And you won’t hear them
When they cry for you
But you’ll still lionize them
When they die for you
And all your wealth means nothing
But nothing doesn’t make everything meaningless
What you can’t take with you
You’ll give to all your children
They’ll be twice the size of you
You’re taking all their time to build your
Own self-serving memories
But God forbid they ask for ivory
You’re taking all our time to build your
Own self-serving memories
But God forbid we demand ivory...
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8. |
Song For Mary Lou
03:40
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You’ve been traveling up in first class
On the backs of lads who had it all
I hear they got you in Jakarta
And you had no one left to call
Now they’ve got you back in coach
Strapping in for your reproach
You wasted all their time
And now you’re out
Everything was looking rosy
Like the floral patterns that you wore
But every tawdry song you gave them
Was an indecent overture
How they bought the deal you sold
And how you spun them into gold
You wasted all their time
And now you’re out
“Love the way that you move,” you’d say
“Don’t you give it away
For pennies on the dollar.”
Now your name’s crossed out in the black books
Of every pretty boy you screwed
You bought them all their cups of coffee
And left them lying in the nude
They’ll love their best and loathe their worst
But they won’t soon forget their first
You wasted all their time and now you’re out.
Such a shame what all went down
But it was sure to come around
You wasted all our time and now you’re out.
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9. |
No Time
02:30
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I’ve been advised by wiser men
That working world involves a lot of wait and seeing
And everybody gets their start
In ways that aren’t befitting of a human being
Somewhere in a gilded pile
A part of you is hiding
They’ve got no time to read your name
So why’d you bother writing?
You swear you’d have a fighting chance
If you could only score a meeting with the top brass
You’d like to think you’ve got an in
But you’ll acknowledge that you’re nothing but an outcast
Somewhere in a gilded pile
A part of you is hiding
They’ve got no time to read your name
So why’d you bother writing?
You think you’re going mad throughout the idle hours
You’re drinking alone
Every shot you take’s another in the dark
And every single missive that you send is
Just a private insurrection
And you accept that it’s a game of chance but
You’re still shocked with each rejection
Somewhere in a gilded pile
Your final hope is dying
They’ve got no time to read your name
But they’ll still take it just the same
And nobody could give a damn
So why’d you bother writing?
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10. |
Five Day
04:52
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Hey, I’m in a sorry state
I’ve just been looking at pictures
Of the beautiful maiden who isn’t returning my phone calls
Hey, it’s all a numbers game
I’m just another example
Of the millions of specimens vying for all her affections
I have so many things to say
So many things I do not want to say
I have so many things to say
So many things I won’t let myself say -
Not to you, anyway.
Hey, it’s just a marketplace
And now you’re looking for someone
Who’ll hold on to your hand and can keep the superiors happy Hey, I’m only what I am
And that’s deficient compared to
The ridiculous standards you’re holding to all your companions
I have so many things to say
So many things I do not want to say
I have so many things to say
So many things I won’t let myself say -
Not to you, anyway.
I’ll choose my words carefully
For now I’m taking a tally
Of every miserable bastard who tells me to stand down
Hey, it’s just a shallow stream
But how am I to traverse it
When the words from my lips are the flames that engulf all my bridges
I have so many things to say
So many things I do not want to say
I have so many things to say
So many things I won’t let myself say -
Not to you, anyway.
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11. |
Dreams
05:01
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There’s a pre-fab ideal for every soul
You encounter on the street
And they’ll follow to the ends of the earth
Under pretense of independence
But they fall for every charlatan
That they see on the TV
It’s all about quantity now
I know you’ve got enough for two or three.
You’d look better With the one that fits you properly
They’ll bombard you with lascivious shots
Of the objects they say you need
And you’d give nearly anything
For some peace in your sleep
But sleep is torture when your every dream Is a seeming futility
As it happens
When you’re powerless to change the lot
You go searching for anything but what you’ve got
Everybody thinks that they’re in the black
When they’re banking on false prophets
But you’ll soon find yourself red faced
When you finally check your pockets
And when you’ve finished
Accounting for every lost cent and pound
I’ll be waiting exactly where you let me down
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Nick Adams
A most "inside" of outsider artists, Nick Adams is the recording project of songwriter/producer SP.
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