Bootstraps
Artist(s): Tom Jessen
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Writer(s):
Thomas Anthony Jessen (BMI) 100%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 100%
Category:
Rock
Subcategories:
Alternative, Alternative Country, Alternative Rock, Americana, Country, Folk, Male Vocal, Roots Rock, Singer Songwriter
Keywords:
Angry, Bar, Blue Collar, Countryside, Defiant, Down Home, Drifter, Drifting, Drinking, Driving, Fields, Hardworking, Heartland, Highway, Hillbilly, Job, Memories, Political, Poor, Roots, Rough, Social Commentary, Society, Southern, Storyteller, Struggle, Tough, Trailer Park, Trailer Trash, Trouble, Truck Stop, Vagabond, Whiskey, Working Man
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Electric Guitar, Keyboard
BPM:
142
Key:
E
Tempo:
Mid-Uptempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Bootstraps
White folks slinging slurs from their lips
they can't figure out what the hell these peoples problem is
they say they're just lazy, violent and they're all on crack
why can't they pull themselves up by the bootstraps
hard when your second hand shoes are blown out
start in a hole with no way to get out
Ain't got no daddy to give them a job
ain't got no connections from a country club
school's are all closing in the neighborhood
got passed over on a raffle to attend the ones that are good
watching from the outside everybody living their life
start in the dark with no lantern to light
They keep driving this belief that cannot yield
while tearing up the grass on their equal playing field
the game is rigged and the players have been picked
to the point where effort is benched and seems almost pointless
Maybe there's a reason, maybe there's a cause
at least a quiet understanding that might give you pause
you can bounce around your house, affirm your beliefs
when there's wide open spaces seen from the streets
put on your shoes and catch a different kind of scene
you might just appreciate something that you see
They keep driving this belief that cannot yield
while tearing up the grass on their equal playing field
the game is rigged and the players have been picked
to the point where effort is spent and seems almost pointless
White folks slinging slurs from their lips
they can't figure out what the hell these peoples problem is
They live on food stamps I pay for from my federal tax
why can't they pull themselves up by the bootstraps
I've earned everything that's come to me
give 'em an inch and we'll end up the minority
Every Day Here
Artist(s): Tom Jessen
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Writer(s):
Thomas Anthony Jessen (BMI) 100%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 100%
Category:
Rock
Subcategories:
Alternative, Alternative Country, Alternative Rock, Americana, Country, Folk, Male Vocal, Roots Rock, Singer Songwriter
Keywords:
Bar, Blue Collar, Car, Conflict, Countryside, Deep South, Down Home, Drifter, Drifting, Drinking, Driving, Fields, Flashback, Heartland, Highway, Political, Poor, Remembering, Roots, Rough, Small Town, Social Commentary, Society, Southern, Storyteller, Struggle, Tough, Trailer Park, Trailer Trash, Trouble, Truck Stop, Twangy, Violence, Whiskey, Working Man
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Electric Guitar, Piano
BPM:
140
Key:
Em
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Every Day Here
Some dude shot a kid on a skating rink
as he was gliding across the ice
Left a big pool of red on the white
now they think the kid's going to be paralyzed
Nowhere left it can't happen
Nowhere now they won't go
Nobody knows why but they're saying it was over a coat
This kind of thing happens every day here
late one night a 19 year old black girl had a car accident
in an all white neighborhood
She got out of the car disoriented
her forehead sprung little rivers of blood
Cell phone was dead, she wandered up to a house,
knocked on the door
white man inside shot her in the face
because he thought she was a burglar
This kind of thing happens every day here
Another week and it will all be gone
then another thing demands your fleeting attention
Another week and it will all be gone
Then it's another headline, another gun
12 year old found a 9mm above the fridge
and brought it to school
an hour and a half later a teacher who made it through Afghanistan
lay in a bloody pool
in another story i saw a 14 year old shot his 17 year old sister
later came out he did because when she was doing the laundry
she bleached his shirt
This kind of thing happens every day here
Couple out for a rare date night in a movie theater
they rearranged their schedule
and got the 2 year old a baby sitter
retired police chief sat behind them annoyed
eventually got enraged
texting during the previews now
apparently gets you blown away
this kind of thing happens every day here
Just Can't See It
Artist(s): Tom Jessen
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Writer(s):
Thomas Anthony Jessen (BMI) 100%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 100%
Category:
Rock
Subcategories:
1990s, Alternative, Alternative Country, Alternative Rock, Americana, Country, Folk, Male Vocal, Roots Rock, Singer Songwriter
Keywords:
Angry, Bar, Blue Collar, Car, Conflict, Countryside, Deep South, Down Home, Drinking, Driving, Fed Up, Fields, Heartland, Highway, Ominous, Political, Pollution, Roots, Rough, Searching, Social Commentary, Southern, Storyteller, Struggle, Tough, Trailer Park, Trailer Trash, Trouble, Truck Stop, Twangy, Vagabond, Whiskey, Working Man
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Electric Guitar, Organ
BPM:
154
Key:
G
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Just Can't See It
They just can't see it approaching the precipice
burying the needle like they know the address
top down with a megaphone
they're so sure this road is leading us toward the horizon
They're waving the flag and laying on the horn
dodging potholes throughout this consumer wasteland
Keep burying those spent rods in the ground
until the plate shifts and causes the effects we see now
engorged smokestacks seeding the sky
while evacuating waste in a river going by
From the sky the cities look like growing malignancies
It's coming around what goes around
it's going to take us all out at the knees
Can't sustain much longer, the gilded and the squalor
like rolling bubbles of mercury
consolidating into a ruling entity
now the money's got the wheel
and we're all looking at each other not believing that this is real
the parts are snapping off under the speed
what was once crucial pieces are now just debris
How'd you expect anything more
thinking freedom was at the store
packaged under the guise of need
at what cultural cost do we put our faith
in exponentially growing technology
Yeah they just can't see it approaching the precipice
burying the needle like they know the address
Yeah they just can't see it
Pump Pump
Artist(s): Tom Jessen
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Writer(s):
Thomas Anthony Jessen (BMI) 100%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 100%
Category:
Rock
Subcategories:
Alternative, Alternative Country, Alternative Rock, Americana, Country, Folk, Male Vocal, Roots Rock, Singer Songwriter
Keywords:
Angry, Bar, Blue Collar, Countryside, Defiant, Down Home, Drifter, Drifting, Drinking, Driving, Fields, Hardworking, Heartland, Highway, Hillbilly, Job, Memories, Political, Poor, Roots, Rough, Social Commentary, Society, Southern, Storyteller, Struggle, Tough, Trailer Park, Trailer Trash, Trouble, Truck Stop, Vagabond, Whiskey, Working Man
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Electric Guitar
BPM:
146
Key:
E
Tempo:
Mid-Uptempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Pump Pump
Well I know it's late and you might be tired
But you gotta come over and watch us light the water on fire
Damnedest thing, it does it every time
the water burns better than gasoline
We all watched we they drilled a big hole in the ground
they took the water up top and shot a shitload of it on down
and just for that they gave us a huge pile of cash
but we've gone through all of it
on veterinarian and medical bills
Don't know what we're gonna do now
can't sell this land, can't sell this house
yeah the suits sing,
pump pump, quake quake
Just think of all the money that we're going to make
Pump Pump, quake quake
Just think of all the money that we're going to make
It's going to create jobs that's their usually answer
they give you the job and the water gives you cancer
and a study paid for by the industry claims everything is safe
as safe as far as they can see
You got no money you got no voice
while black briefcases grease those DC boys
Pump Pump, quake quake
just think of all the money that we're going to make
Drill baby drill, drill baby drill
there's gold just sitting there in the shale
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