Bait on the hook A curse on the town We laugh like coyotes And cry just like clowns It scrubs off of our fingers A little elbow grease and there it goes Bones in the garden Pitchfork in the hay Mice in the cupboard It’s written all…

Happy Birthday, but not too loud Mid-life crisis head into town One foot in the cradle, one foot in the grave I still feel young but I can sense a change There has got to be more than this Crooked lines with straight edges Michael tells…

a pop-structured, simple instrumental

Bait on the hook A curse on the town We laugh like coyotes And cry just like clowns It scrubs off of our fingers A little elbow grease and there it goes Bones in the garden Pitchfork in the hay Mice in the cupboard It’s written all…

I ride an old paint I lead an old dam I'm going to Montana To throw a houlihan They feed in the coolies They water in the draw Their tails are all matted Their backs are all raw Ride around Ride around real slow The fiery and the snuffy…

This past week My life has been a complimentary airline seat On the wing Fighting air resistance and feeling thin Took donations And took compliments as best as I could manage I’ll just sing I’ll just try and sit for a moment…

This is hot trash

Dub groove with some ebow.