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SocietyFringePodcast's podcast

Dave and Brian, as the band Society Fringe Players, are psychedelic punk rock opera hillbillies who are using this podcast to roll out their 87 song narrative entitled THE BIG OPERA. They release a new song every Monday morning at 7 ESTand then release a commentary track every Wednesday morning at 7 EST explaining how that song fits into THE BIG OPERA. They're too "Bawmer" for their own good. Reach them on Twitter at @davelinantudsfp and @brilutz9. Yes these are Circle 9 guys.
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Now displaying: Page 1
Feb 19, 2018

WESTWARD

In the bed next to me the man looks just like me

He said "My name is Angel White, boy, what is yours?"

"I'm Baby Blue" I said to him he squinted back at me again

And then he stood up walked away and closed the door

I'm standing in a mirrored hall I punch and kick at every wall

I fall my knuckles bloodied dripping to the ground

I look up and see Angel White just disappear into the night

There is a term for this if not then just a sound

When I'm standing tall I can't help but fall

When I'm on my knees I feel truly free

When I see Remote Control she would just offer me a bowl

And then she mesmerized explicitly at Dawn

As she came tome again she fluctuated slightly then

She misquoted all of the words I heard before

She populated like a breeze that had a different chain link sleeve

Of retributions paid and other ones that lost

As she split the sun in half She moved against the righteous path

And climbed down from the perch that never paid the cost

As I stood to see that it wasn't me

In that playful past of iconoclasts

The old man shuffled past me there his flask was metal facial hair

He had a jumpsuit on of rhinestones shining white

Never gave me wisdom once I didn't ask for other ones

But then I saw it as a lecture from respite

Did he really give a shit I didn't think he was legit

But then the world's a work and we're all fucking marks

The greatest con became the truth Falsified by the unclaimed youth

Of everyone it fades away into a spark

I'm so goddamned tired I'm so goddamn mired

Will it ever end probably not, my friend

When a man ain't got no home there's one thing left he's born to roam

But then again to run away's too aching sad

As a pilgrim from the rest who like to propagate the best

Of worst things everywhere there's money to be had

So I disappeared to see if when a people can't be free

That you can drown your sorrows just from passing through

Guess we'll never really know but it's sure fun to try to though

And if you don't agree I ain't got time for you

All my bullets gone shot through by this song

Westward let us roam make the road our home

 

Dave - guitar, vocals, harmonica

Brian - bass, engineering, mixing

Wil - drums

Ian - mastering

 

 

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