Le Angst

Tis the night before roadtrip, and all through the band
the sound is of bitching, of shit hitting fan
of stupid kid drummer who can’t do things right
and distant adventures with costs out of sight.

On mortgage, on car payment, on space rent, on debt
it all adds up, and we’re all getting wet
except Mark, who can afford to carve the turkey
while Chris and I take a left at Albuquerque

right into the toilet, the crapper, the can
for we have no money to fund this poor band
our dreams are expensive, our calling is high
but if we don’t break even I think we may cry.

We need a new album, the old one is dated!
we need to play Cali and thus we’ll be graded
for Festivals call, yet we cannot summon
the fundage to go, and thus we are bummin’

Bye Tulsa, bye Indy, forget the east coast
anything past day-trip is probably toast
the subject of drummers has been such a bore
but truth is we must not proceed until Four

We stand at that point where good bands cave in
as expectation exceeds what comes in
and everyone thinks you deserve fortune and fame
while you get a dollar for each one who came

We forget – its a business, and everything costs
success makes it easy for us to get lost
in all the things that surround what we do
which is simply to go and play music for you

it’s nice up on stage, for while we are playing
nothing else matters and all we are saying
is give us a chance to sing for our supper
and maybe some gas money into the hopper (CROSE ENOUGH!)

Shit don’t add up. Ends don’t meet
Paying to play is the road to defeat
and yet that’s what we do to keep it alive
this life is what we need to survive

So off we go, who knows what’s before us
we may duct tape Brian to the hood of a Taurus
Chris might kill Mark, or me. Who knows?
Hell, I might go off after playing two shows

in the Land Of Entrapment, New Mexico
at a huge downtown bar, then an old Texaco (no, really)
we’ll rock or we’ll suck, and maybe make friends
and hopefully means will equal the ends.

Home sunday. Wish us luck.