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SocietyFringePodcast's podcast

Through this podcast SFP is creating an extended universe through the use of guitar based pop songs. The tale is both episodic and serial. As of the COVID lock down the SFPeeniverse consisted of 7 Broadway style musicals. This is ambitious stuff. The conceit is that an '84 Chevy El Camino acts as a TARDIS catalyst connecting the characters to unlimited story telling opportunities.
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Now displaying: Page 1
May 26, 2020

TRAVELOGUE AMERICA PART 1

OPEN ROAD
I want an open road I want to drive away
But nobody got a second chance
Giving up too fast I want to play my hand
But nobody got a second chance
I Will crawl to you
I will die for you
But I warn you
I cry too
I want an open road where the wind it sings out loud
A tune that's meant to drown another's pain
I need an open road I got to fly away
'Cause the pressure's enough to drive a man insane
What'd you say to me
Oh why can't I see
What's so goddamn wrong with me
Oh why can't I see
Break it down
I want an open heart so I can say just what I feel
But it's hard to start when you got to sonic boom
I want an open book I got to write my story true
So the end won't ever no never come too soon
Dave - guitar and vocal
Brendan - bass, production
Ryan - drums

ROAM, SUCKER, ROAM
Running away from no place
Turning away from god's grace
Constantly getting outpaced
Roam, sucker, roam
Running away to nowhere
Pay a toll to get there
Wet and cold and laid bare
Roam sucker roam
A twenty dollar phone card
Left in someone's back yard
But you ain't got nobody to call
Oh no
Like a license plate in Braille
Like wine without a grail
Nobody's there is all
Alright
Roam, sucker roam
There's a light that shines on Friday
It's hovering just past the one way
Got nothing much left to say
But roam, sucker, roam
Like the devil out of hell
I guess it's just as well
Because he swore he'd never tell
Roam, sucker, roam
You know that trying to lose is still trying
Laughing at pain ain't crying
Sucking at life ain't dying, my friend
Like the space between two walls
Like a door without a hall
Like a spring without a fall
Alright
Roam, sucker, roam
Dave - mandolins, vocals
Joe - harmonica
Brian - bass
Wil - drums

CRAZY FUCKER
Sup
Creamy thighs
Druggy "fuck me" eyes
Scarred and high
Drinking all the time
She wakes up
Brushes off the crust
Says out loud
"A cocaine wheel don't rust"
I said "what?"
She goes to the homeless shelter
Raises her arms high above her
Goes to work and shakes her titties
Goddamn man she sure looks pretty
She's a crazy fucker
Sucks her thumb
These depraved men are dumb
Shoots her gun
Garter full of ones
She's wasted dancing kind of shoddy
Pukes all on her naked body
She's a crazy fucker
Dave - guitars and vocals
Joe - guitars and effects
Brian - bass
Wil - drums and percussion

HERE WE GO
Well I'm a small town schlub and I hate the big city
Can't smoke in restaurants the bitches pay to be too pretty
Everyone's a fake with their cell phones ringing
Fucking punk jerks condescending money clinging
Guns and tons of chalk outlines drawn all over me
Dead trees, kids on crack, high financing with smack
Got your suit and tie zombies
And your phony show business fucks
They suck life sucks so what
So I'm headed on out to the strip club desert
Gonna get me a woman proceed out west
To the smooth Pacific Ocean way of west Mexico
Here I Go here I go Here I go Here I go yeah
Well I was running from the law by the age of 15
Stole an El Camino bound for New York City
I did a hitch in the service but I missed Bush's war thank god
Well they booted me out dishonorably
I couldn't take their fucking rules fuck the USA
And I'd like to kill the president but really what for
All's I'm looking for's a door
Well I knocked off a liquor store somewhere in Brooklyn
Hit the Jersey Turnpike bound for Ef El Ay
Took a right on 85 somewhere in Virginia
Hit the strip joint watch the ladies dancing for me
Emotionally retarded's what they called me in the service
I beat that doctor down with the back of my hand
Anyway I met a stripper she was barely 18
At least that's what she told me
Who am I to say
Yeah
I fucked her in the bathroom spilled whiskey on my shirt
Then we headed for the desert
The warm warm desert
When the sun came up
I said "hey, my name's Billy"
She said "I'm Charlene" I said here we go
Here we go
Sleeping outside with my gun in my hand
I glanced at Charlene as she snored so softly
The crickets were loud and the cars on the highway
Made it sound just like the beach
Well I kissed Charlene
She awoke slowly then she folded my socks
Damn near 95 degrees it's barely 9:30
That's summer for you, babe, south of the Mason Dixon Line
Yeah we gassed up that El Camino threw the gun under the seat
Drove down through Alabama bound for
New Orleans
Here we go
Dave - guitars. mandolin, banjo, vocals
Joe - guitars, string quartet
Brian - bass
Wil - drums

TROUBADOR BOSTON, RIVERBOAT GAMBLER
Troubador Boston, riverboat gambler
That's my nom de plume
But I ain't ever wrote down anything
My brain ain't got t the room
You can find me on the Mississippi
Gambling noon to noon
A Derringer strapped to my leg
A garter on my shoulder blade
These Alabama chumps are made
I used to be a football player the endzone was my home
My roguish charm's well documented I got a roving bone
Vegas she's too dry for me so Bilouxi is my home
Blackjack. baby, roulette too
But poker's my rapscallion glue
I've won in Cleveland Phoenix too
My fortune she just grew and grew
I got a yacht in the Gulf waters true
My novel she's a thing of beauty atmospherically
It revolves around my gambling ways for everyone to see
I'm working on a prequel it's called "Me When I Was Three"
I'm a literary tour de force
But nothing's written down of course
The women they want more and more
Of my troubador troubador troubador troubador
As long as I'm a novelist hell well I'm a painter too
The whole wide world's my canvas and my gambling is the glue
I'm an artist cursed with luck, oh well
I'm gonna get my dew phew
Troubador Boston, riverboat gambler
I'm an artist rolling dice
Dave - banjo and vocals
Joe - harmonica
Brian - bass
Wil - percussion

ALABAMA BAR
Alabama bar is far from home
When you are Apache you're just wrong
Rebel flags fly high up on a pole
Give me whiskey for to sooth my soul
Got into a card game close to three
Charlene sitting pretty next to me
Call me Billy Redfoot that's my name
You rednecks best be packing all the same
You see
Ever since I went away
There's too much at stake for me to stay
Anywhere
Tripping back to the Ante Bellum south
Cotton field slaves dying hand to mouth
A comet tail flies scorching through my brain
Good god I think I've gone insane
I took my winnings rumbled out
My head was spinning all about
Charlene took the keys and flew
I got more than woes and blues
I'm cracking up
Sweating through my vision shame
Questing crying towards the flame
Floating listlessly I see
I see my daddy hangin' from a tree
No that's me
Alabama bar I say so long
To fight for glory never seemed so wrong
There ain't much to keep me anywhere
Me and Charlene shouldn't even care
Dave - guitars and vocals
Joe - slide
Brian - bass
Wil - drums and glasses

FBI MAN
FBI man
Go man go man
Interstate at night
The moon is my streetlight
Gonna find that Billy Redfoot son of a bitch
Interstate at dawn
Got my holster on
I'm a searching on
I'm John Wayne Man
Go man go man
FBI man
Go go go man
Dave - guitars and vocals
Joe - guitars and vocals
Brian - bass and vocals
Wil - drums and vocals

DIRTY SHAME
What a shame
Dirty shame
All the same
Dirty shame yeah
It's a goddamn fucking dirty shame
Lordy me
Glory be
Mercy me
Glory be yeah
It's a goddamn fucking dirty shame
JOE!
Holy shit
It's a goddamn fucking dirty shame
Oh looky here
Dave - guitars and vocals
Brendan - bass and production
Ryan - drums

THE ABBEY
There's a little rock and roll bar with hillbilly Sundays
Way down on Decatur Street
I done crawled inside a whiskey bottle
And I kind of lost my feet
God I miss my woman sitting home in ol' B'more
I'll drink until the sun comes up
And then make love to the hotel floor
But as for now I'm on Decatur Street
The Circle 9 Acoustic Tour's a drunken fiasco
Bars don't close in New Orleans
But right now it's time to roll
Headed west to Vegas load the van and hit the road
We're a hundred mile an hour pharmacy
With a rock and roll, payload
We left out livers on Decatur Street
Livers on Decatur Street
When I get home I'm going to sleep for forty days
Make love to my woman 'til the Christmas holidays
Go to Iamp's and then proceed to pound
In honor of that little Nawlins bar that me and Kassy found
The Abbey on Decatur Street

DA
Leave me alone and go suck a bone and
Get the fuck out of my shit
Thanks a lot, dick
You dumb stupid prick
You eat shit you stupid motherfucking dumbass
You fucking dumbass
You dumb piece of trash
You chump bitch ass
You stupid ass son of a bitch
Go fuck yourself
Get your head out of your ass
You eat shit you stupid motherfucking dumbass
You fucking dumbass
Hell I never thought I'd see
An ass as dumb as you can be
Never in my life
You eat shit you stupid motherfucker
Man you suck
You stupid fuck
You idiot bastard fuck face
Fuck you
Fuck ball
You eat shit you stupid motherfucking dumbass
You fucking dumbass
Dave - guitars, vocals, lap
Joe - guitars and vocals
Brian - bass and vocals
Wil - drums and vocals

TEXAS THUNDERSTORM
She floated down from Oklahoma
She left destruction in her wake
She aroused me and cleansed my visions
She destroyed me oh
My spirit aches
We roll through Texas
And dodge tornadoes
It's noon but midnight
I feel reborn
My gun is warm in
Charlene's soft caress
Making love in this Texas Thunderstorm
You know that Texas
She feels so mighty
You always
You have far to go
I saw Agent John Wayne
Pull his pistol
So I shot him whoa
Here we go
Dave - guitars and vocals
Joe - guitars and string quartet
Brian - bass
Wil - drums

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