1. Basement Song
In cart Not available Out of stock


it’s cold down in the basement that i’m renting for the time
streets outside are quiet, three more hours ‘til the grind
when alarms will sound in unison, this sleepy town will rise
to start another day with neither fanfare nor surprise

and the weather will be overcast and then will turn to rain
folks will secretly be happy for the excuse to complain
and the rain will sound like symphonies cascading off this town’s
victorian roofs with angles that the drops come rolling down

and my day will start off soggy, shoes have holes through to my feet
as i stumble to the corner store to get something to eat
the cute girl at the register will smile as if to say,
“ain’t we both in this together,” then she’ll send me on my way

hey yea
hey yea yea yea
hey yea yea yea

and the mayor with the shiny shoes will be at old town hall
his brother chief of police will catch truants at the mall
and mothers with their babies, off to daycare, then to work
i’ll be heading to the alleys ‘cause that’s where the poets lurk

and i’ll be seeing things in harmony, smelling them in rhyme
you know the kind of day when you can sink within the time
and the conflict then will rise, do i choose to concentrate
on all the things i love or try to fix the things i hate

‘cause we americans dig our sitcoms, music, ballgames and french fries
and our teachers, they need raises and our schools, they need supplies
and resilience of the spirit goads the will to carry on
and the moon, it chase the sun around the earth to bring the dawn

hey yea
hey yea yea yea
hey yea yea yea

and our prez was re-elected though i didn’t put him there
half the country hates him the other puts him in their prayers
and i’m down in the basement trying to contemplate the scene
of a senate bill that’s omnibus and what that’s supposed to mean

and the business folk are happy ‘cause their cuts won’t be repealed
they’re steppin over homeless now on route to make the deal
while kids with calloused fingers serve in war and take their lumps
so the wealthy kids with suv’s can pay less at the pumps

but a hundred years from now all our troubles will be gone
we’ll be searching out new planets after fucking up our own
we’ll pick us out a doozy, plant a sturdy flag and then
ship up a few religions, do it all over again

hey yea
hey yea yea yea
hey yea yea yea

if i met greg brown i’d say i stole this song from you
we can’t all be original, plus my rent is due
and i don’t have health insurance, my car might be reposessed
‘cause playin on this guitar is the thing that i like best

and tomorrow at a bar about a half a mile from here
i’ll make fifty and a burger and they’ll make me buy my beer
and the guitar will sound like fireworks exploding north and south
expressing all the feelings i can’t push out through my mouth

hey yea
hey yea yea yea

and someday greg you’ll hear this song and it will make you smile
and you will take me on the road and we will travel for a while
and we will play together, trading verses, you and me
the crowd will want an encore...we’ll give’em two or three

but for now the morning time will rear it’s head before too long
and you know i cannot sleep before i’ve finished up a song
and tomorrow when i muster up the nerve to play this through
i’ll hit the final chord and give a silent nod to you

hey yea
hey yea yea yea
hey yea yea yea

hey yea yea yea
hey yea yea yea
hey yea yea yea