Thursday, July 7, 2011

Don't (change) the Lyrics! and Court

As a musici one who plays instruments for fun, I get a kick out of making up extra verses for songs, so I have this big old binder full of notepaper with the change and lyrics for some common songs and then copies with my penciled-in 'edits'.  When the power is out after a storm (or a roomie's ex; see below) , or WoW is down or something of the like, I tend to pick up my awful little acoustic guitar and add to the collection. After checking my binder this morning and giving a brief skim through on a whim, I found out that, while having a healthy collection of Jazz standards and Rock 'n Roll, I am lacking on the Country/Folk front.

I wasn't able to add anything however, as I was subpoenaed for a court hearing. To make a long setup short, the two met in AA and fell in love. There was a brief honeymoon period, with him going to meetings three times a day and going to church every Sunday and him looking for a job all as he loved up on my roommate, but it came to a rather abrupt end after he borrowed her car, got drunk and ended up on Federal property, netting him one DWI charge. He got an old girlfriend to bail him out after my roommate refused to, and he came by the house and smacked her up while I was napping inside.

ANYHOW, after seeing the nameless fellow come into the courtroom in his prison oranges, a song popped into my head; Folsom Prison blues. Wasting no time, I pulled out a pad and pen and got to work. So here is my current revisions for the tune:

[First Verse]

I hear the train a comin'
It's rollin' 'round the bend,
I hope it's full of women,
'Cause, I'm tired of fuckin' men,
I'm stuck in Jessup Prison,
And time keeps draggin' on,
But that train keeps a-rollin',
On down the B and O. 

[Third Verse]

I bet that slut's a-suckin',
In a fancy car,
She's probably goin' down,
And smokin' big 'cigars',
Oh, she had it comin',
And I know I can't be free,
But those people keep a-fuckin',
And that's what tortures me.

[Fourth Verse]

Well, if they freed me from this prison,
If that little wop was mine,
I'd choke her scrawny ass out,
Farther down the line,
Far from Jessup Prison,
That's where I want to stay,
I'd get my ol' 12-gauge,
And blow her ass away.

...I'm sick, aren't I?

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