Jeff Labes, on piano Ladies and gentlemen, please Left to right we have Bill Atwood on trumpet oh Brother, Jack Schroer, on saxaphones John Platania on guitar David Hayes on bass Dahaud Shaar on
: I start each day out the same. Stretching out my panda arms reaching for a guitar to play but now my best friend?s at my feet. I can tell by her tiny
Crypt? Who the fuck can control my sounds still don' got me, Scott be makin' my vocal sounds so cocky Who got me? Yeah my dogs most likely If I ain't loyal to my
ll rock and roll and scroll on American Lindy hop and slop, it's American tune in, I'm on, turn on, I'm in, I'm on Today Today on the Bandstand
When you hear the countdown, everyone shut up because it's awful tight. Yeah Let's make it. 2-3-go Sittin in my ca Say t-shirts T-shirts in my car Sorry
bigger pot of gold Lock and load, my heavy metal rock and rolls If you gotta go, you gotta go That's part of the show My heart is cold like Antarctica
Feelin my highs and my lows In my soul, and my goals Just to stop smoking and stop drinkin But I been thinkin I got my reasons Just to get (by), just
my sweet embraceable you Embrace me, you irreplaceable you Don't be a naughty baby, come to mama, Come to mama do I will go home, I will try again I will
two barrels Back to the tarots, prostitution rackets in Paris Sippin? cactus, dippin? on stallions My corduroys are blood-splattered Decapitated, my spurs carve like taxiderm Torch the mayor, jacked on
you But I can't go on like this Torn between the man I love and the one I'm living with It's a conflict of emotion To my heart I must be true I know that
can go west to Texas Go east to Mississippi You can run out of money You can run out of pity Throw open your purse until you're crying for mercy Go to
blazin.. Check it, uh-huh, YO It's E-Dub on the microphone My style be Elektra, I'm the male Syl Rhome Homes, walk around with forty-four chrome on safety
I'm sayin you're singin a song Stevie Blass on the keyboard, swingin along But you don't have to dance, play it cool and listen My DJ's mixin, and I'll
it will be. Shady grave, come the summer it will be. Well I can hear the cars just a hundred feet behind. And I smell the rock salt in the air. And I know in my
' at de do'! Now we got BROADWAY ZOMBIE MAMMYS! We gots an' UGLY, UGLY O'PHAN ANNIE! An' de traditium will go on, 'n on, 'n on I loves t'see de, see
You did a year abroad in Italy so I sent you backrubs on paper, poems on barf bags, a school year measured in letters and waiting, pictures of my situation bordering my
My old heart it's been 13 hours too much of you my friend my dear and now I cower Looking at you looking at you oh shit shit I'll go cook myself a brew
