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Round 21, Week 10

by Monday Morning 3AM Music Club

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1.
Broken angles twisted mind Darkest alleys where you find Keys will open secrets tried Dare yourself to step inside Rusted dark and shiny clean Metal handles glistening Yankee roses bible verse Blessing or a copper curse We going out, we staying late Living loud, no debate Hesitate, leave the rock So twisted up, give you bottle shock Heir apparent gutter trash Soothing pain in weed and hash Ours to never question why Lock me up and say goodbye Key to living like a king Don’t hold on to anything Twisted up and dinner roll Pile it up and let it go
2.
I’ve got skeletons and I’ve got rust I’ve got cigarettes and I’ve got dust Got an ashtray for snuffing memories Got a chip upon my shoulder And a fear of getting older And a worried mind that’s brought me to my knees Things ain’t been going my way Pounding pavement every day Play the piano for the strangers off the street Give it all til there’s nothing left of me Put their dollars in the jar Ain’t been going quite as far Hope I get out in time to make the number 3 Put in their requests Try to give ‘em all my best They’re here to be footloose and fancy free I’ve got whiskey in my jar I’ve got Matilda’s waltzing hard I’ve got black velvet bands still waiting in the wings I’ve got Jerry Lee in the bag I’ve got Joplin’s favorite rag Got a repertoire that’s fit for The King I’m so tired of this shit But I know I’ll never quit Even though the struggle never ends And while I spin this tale Of an Ahab and his whale Spare a buck or two cause I ain’t got no sense
3.
well theres keys and a book on an old coffee table in a motel in santa fe and a note from his mom saying call when you’re able and we’ll help you find your way so he tried every key on every single door that he found in santa fe but none of them fit growing tired of it threw that key ring away now there’s a book on that old coffee table in a motel in santa fe and a note from his mom saying call when you’re able and we’ll help you find your way so he looked through that book for a single mention of santa fe but he never found nothin, except for frustration so he threw that book away now there’s an old coffee table in a motel in santa fe and a note from his mom saying call when you’re able and we’ll help you find your way he finally called home on some old payphone just outside of santa fe said mother to son, ‘your journey was done when you called home today’ now there’s an old coffee table in a motel in santa fe there’s some keys and a book on an old coffee table in a motel in santa fe and a note from his mom saying call when you’re able and we’ll help you find your way we’ll help you find your way
4.
By now all the parts, have all been replace to the point that all that's left is a soul Nothing original remains, even though it looks whole Time has set and taken its toll But I just can't let go Would be hard to impart, the meaning it has to me Need to start at the beginning It's become a part of my story, piles of junk Telling a hoarder's history It's a part of my soul It looks like junk but it has history It's not worth much, to anyone but me Inside these pages holds my memory It's not much, but to me It's a meaningful thing It looks like a pile just collecting dust Keys to old locks not worth anything much Can't bring myself to throw it away I'm connected to the words written on the page It looks like junk but it has history It's not worth much, to anyone but me Inside these pages holds my memory It's not much, but to me It's a meaningful thing
5.
jailor, won’t you, jailor, won’t you keep him locked up tight ain’t enough bolts on the prison door to hold my lover tonight to hold my lover tonight I was a-drifitin’ angel with a chainsaw heart looking for a place to land they had me breaking horses out the Canterlane Farm I was sinking like a stone beneath the sand sinking like a stone beneath the sand he was a mean old grifter with a monkey's paw shacked up in a double-wide with the devil in his grin and a split-bone jaw I must’ve seen the thorn set in his side must’ve seen the thorn set in his side jailor, won’t you, jailor, won’t you keep him locked up tight ain’t enough bolts on the prison door to hold my lover tonight to hold my lover tonight he used to beat me in the night when he’d come late but only when he’d come back home at all but in the cold gray mist of the morning, once again the helplessness reduced me to a crawl helplessness reduced me to a crawl and if the lord won’t help me and the law don’t care tell me what I’m ‘sposed to do? would you live some kind of purgatory, trembling inside wait to find out what he’ll do to you, boys find out what he’d do to you jailor, won’t you, jailor, won’t you keep him locked up tight ain’t enough bolts on the prison door to hold my lover tonight to hold my lover tonight and if the clock struck 9 on a moonless winter night and the Appaloosas stamping in their stalls and if I raised my glass to the glory of his name while the wind curled through the trailer walls and if I mixed that drink with arsenic and gin just enough to burn me anyhow do you think that there’s a soul gonna speak for his parole tell me who among you blames me now? jailor, won’t you, jailor, won’t you keep him locked up tight ain’t enough bolts on the prison door to hold my lover tonight to hold my lover tonight

about

This week's assignment, from Mitchell:

""This is the picture"
Consider this picture, then write your song.

M. Snow"

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released February 4, 2019

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Monday Morning 3AM Music Club Winston Salem, North Carolina

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