Paroles de Song's the same

Rob Klajda

pochette album Song's the same
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Played out and laid out in this triangle town
Tongue tied and battered
By the circuits of sound
Give me a minute and ill strike up a pose
Packed tight
Into my loose fitting designer clothes
The dj rocks, his needle drops
Salvation on a dead end street
The tattooed girls are squirming
To the factory beat
Any other night
And they would be safe at home
Piercing body parts and deconstructing suicide poems
The songs the same
How hard you listen
Makes all the difference in the world
But i aint saying anything different
From anything youve already heard
Ten gallon hat, three inch heels
And boot cut jeans
Quarterback cowboys
Coaching line dancing teams
Ill bet they really do have fences to mend
Choking the reigns
On some old mercedes benz
A buckskin ballerina
Does a perfect honky-tonk pli
She pulls a dollar from the fingers
Of a badly drawn toupee
A deal is signed in sawdust,
Two new lovers retreat
On down the trailer park boardwalk
To hillbilly beach
Just another culture built on urban decay
Theres extra college credit
If youre homeless for the day
Dont mind the rats- they live here too
Theyll bite your feet and steal your food
We shower under broken pipes
Im sorry- wish it wasnt true
The junkies on the south side
Hang out by the trains
The coming and the going
Only adds to their pain
Years ago theyd never guessed
Theyd grow up to be weeks from death
How sad to see that life is measured
Breathe by breathe
A dozen harley scooters
Congregate outside
A chrome and steel welcome mat
To an afterhours dive
The beer is cold, the whiskeys cheap
The whole place smells like leather
On the jukebox david allen coe sings panheads forever
The people in this tavern
Come in here to unwind
After twelve long hours of sweat
On the assembly line
They dont dress up like bikers
Cause its the latest style
Some people really were
Born to be wild

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