Showing posts with label Listen. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Listen. Show all posts
Friday, October 24, 2008
In the Head
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Gone Country
I crafted a beast of a country music playlist yesterday. I will not defend my musical taste beyond quoting Chuck Klosterman from Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs:"The most wretched people in the world are those who tell you they like every kind of music 'except country.' People who say that are boorish and pretentious at the same time. All it means is that they've managed to figure out the most rudimentary rule of pop sociology; they know that hipsters gauge the coolness of others by their espoused taste in sound, and they know hipsters hate modern country music. And they hate it because it speaks to normal people in a tangible, rational manner. Hipsters hate it because they hate Midwesterners, and they hate Southerners, and they hate people with real jobs."
I dug my key into the side of his pretty little suped-up four-wheel drive,
carved my name into his leather seats...
I took a Louisville Slugger to both head lights,
slashed a hole in all four tires...
Maybe next time he'll think before he cheats.
You should've said no, you should've gone home
You should've thought twice before you let it all go
You should've know that word, whatcha did with her
Get back to me...
And I should've been there, in the back of your mind
I shouldn't be asking myself why
You shouldn't be begging for forgiveness at my feet...
You should've said no, baby and you might still have me
Now my momma told me in this dog-eat-dog world
You gotta work harder than a man
She'd say, yeah that's just what you need
Some romance book Romeo callin' you at work and messin' up your plans
I get home 7:30 the house is dirty, but it can wait
Yeah, 'cause right now I need some downtime
To drink some red wine and celebrate
Armageddon could be knocking at my door
but I ain't gonna answer thats for sure.
There's gotta be something more!
You can say you've got issues
You can say you're a victim
It's all your parents fault,I mean
After all, you didn't pick them
Maybe somebody else has got time to listen
My give a damn's busted
Well you're therapist says
It was all a mistake
A product of the Prozac
And your codependent ways
So, who's your enabler these days
My give a damn's busted
I won't be your Friday paycheck
I won't be the prize you flaunt
And I won't be your Martha Stewart, baby
Or your all-night restaurant
But I will, I will, I will be your everything
If you make me feel like a woman should
I will, I will, I will be the whole shebang
You know I will...but
I won't be your crutch to lean on
I won't wear stiletto heels
I won't walk a mile in your shoes
Just so I know how it feels
I won't be your obligation
I won't be your Barbie doll
I won't be the portrait of perfection
To adorn you wall
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