Lifesmith Blues Rock

From the Lifesmith Group album, "Prattle." Chaos, my friends, is the natural order of things Resolving an order takes the energy of kings Microstates, entropy, the law of the land Possible realities on countless demand. Control derives from manipulation of such A conscious choice and a willing touch But is it illusion in our space-time pure Can we conjure a solid, concrete, secure? Zillions of atoms in seeming random dance Parade before us proudly, animals, rocks and plants But these have structure, purpose and a goal Who is the contractor that assigns these roles? There exists a hierarchy in sentients’ minds Most see the surface, to the details are blind Some know the inner workings intimated so Extrapolates the capability of being in the know. The spinning of a coaster, the fishtailing of a car, The erosion of a hillside, the explosion of a star Where does order end and randomness then rule? The infinite mind begin reality’s endless pool.

From the Lifesmith Group album, "Drivel." Five o’clock, the bell rings Crusty and tired, falls out of bliss A cup of scalding sweet mud A shower, a dump, and a piss Wraps himself in silken straitjacket A noose about his neck no less Hits the highway before it hits back Big Brother’s day is anyone’s guess. Eight o’clock, the meetings begin Resigned and nodding, the corporate toady Pushes endless forms thru mouse holes Crosses his T’s in a regulated rhapsody His tune called by a condescending heir He kowtows to the boss’ secretary Swallows his pride, even chokes on it too He warns himself he’s got to be wary. By lunch he’s worn down, can’t see straight Such anger suppressed, the headaches of late Lesser men order and expect him to obey The despair pervades his subservient day. Two o'clock, they review his work So viciously spiteful, holds back his speech Another week wasted in his life as a tool How he dreams of a cocktail on the beach Yet back to his hole amidst the shuffling dread To satisfy an ungrateful capital leach He wants to cry out at his ever depressing lot The future he seeks is beyond his reach. Five o’clock, he packs it in for home Wryly thanks whatever deity is new That he didn’t lose this job that he believes He needs to keep his bills from overdue No overtime needed today, that’s a change Jockey his wreck thru a freeway untrue To a selfish wife whose dad gave her the house He barely tolerates, a condition he rues. Six o’clock, the kids are at his heels I need an iPod and I need a phone Barely catching his breath walking thru the door Vastly uninspired, yields a pathetic moan Ripping off his necktie and suit in step Guzzling down cheap beer, tired to the bone His nagging wife wants him to paint the house That he knows he will never really own. His dinner is choked down, gruel at best Profoundly frustrated, too beat down to be mad The wife has the remote control, like he cares There’s nothing on the tube for him, it’s all bad She’ll never turn it off and turn him on He hopes to dream of the life he never had And as he involuntarily sinks into uneasy slumber Only one thought is unendingly sad: It’s only Monday!

From the Lifesmith Group album, "Drivel." Jimmy can’t make his payments, and Danny lost his job Janey’s got a melanoma and Herbert just got robbed Bob has guilt that eats at him and Mary shed her hair Cathy’s lost her hearing and Jeff has lost his fare. We’re all in trouble, we all have cares No one is immune to living’s hard airs We learn to carry on and live to be strong In spite of bumps, made smooth to last long. Don can’t read, never learned he says and Maria cleans the dirt Chris thinks everyone hates him and Pat never wears a shirt Tyrone dreads he’s HIV and Jess has the stickiest hands Billy gets his joy torturing dogs while Linda makes demands. We’re all in trouble, our demons play out In our weakness, this tissue’s endless bout Yet as troopers in rain we march to glory Knowing illness is only a fleeting story. Carl’s addicted to a half dozen drugs and Karen is vain beyond end Juan chases tail even in dreams and Carol can’t help but spend Fred is not at all interested in work and Donna’s without any faith John likes the challenge of stealing cars and Barb dresses like a wraith. We’re all in trouble, carry it on our cross Do our best to not let mischief be our boss Try to get over it as we grow better and older Attaining wisdom hopefully before we get colder.

From the Lifesmith Group album, "Commentary." Got too many snake eyes and boxcars too Won't somebody tell me what I'm gonna do Can't seem to roll yo'leven and it don't seem right My babe won't let me out on a Saturday night Keep tryin to win but I'm bound to lose Got to be a cure for the seven out blues. Never had a parley, I'm a "wish I had, " Always bet the field but the prospects are bad, Can't lay off the numbers and it don't seem right Two seventy across--take it away--tonight Keep trying to win but I'm bound to lose Got to be a cure for the seven out blues. Just got back from Vegas, nearly lost my shirt Everybody tells me I've been blind since birth Always taking odds on four and ten Nothing else much matters and I don't care when Keep trying to win but I'm bound to lose Got to be a cure for the seven out blues. Try to play the don't and I make a pass I can't get credit so I'll lose my ass Rolled three sevens--I was in the field Now I'm busted out--can't buy a meal Keep trying to win but I'm bound to lose Got to be a cure for the seven out blues. My baby kicked me out and I can't go home I'll sell my dicey soul for another loan Just one more twelve while I'm in the field Gimme them bones, Lord, I'll never yield Keep trying to win but I'm bound to lose Got to be a cure for the seven out blues.