Pages

Sunday, June 05, 2011

Let a Poor Man Be

No shit. Me and my brother were walking down a residential street in Alamosa, Colorado yesterday and blasting through the windows of a house was some Clutch.


I made a couple Clutch CDs to bring along and this song came up.

I don't know...seems kind of appropriate to my life at the moment for reasons I'll leave unexplained.

If you don't listen to the song, at least read the lyrics:
I’m gonna move to the outskirts of town
Where none of your friends are hanging around
That’s right, I’m gonna move to the other side of town
Where none of your business is hanging around

Woman, please let a poor man be. Let a poor man be
Columbia, girl, please let a poor man be. Let a poor man be

I’m gonna build a castle out of Goodyear tires,
Cinderblock and busted doors; that’s where I’ll retire.
Gonna dig a mote. Fill it up with ale.
Not much of a defense, I know, but the supply never fails.

When you come knocking all in tears wringing hands and genuflecting,
You’ll understand that I am a busy man and my subjects demand my attention.
These walls don’t build themselves and I am running out of time.
So if you desire anything else, you had better get in line.

No comments: