Greatest Song Lyrics Ever, vol. 39

"Placemat Blues," by Slobberbone

Get up from the table and just walk away
There's nothing for me anyway
No reason that I should stay
Where's the place at the table for folks like me?
There's not one that I can see
Not one I can see

Used to be nothing sweeter than the signals it could send
The musical hand it could lend
Could be a lonely man's best friend
Where's the place at the table for folks like them?
Do you not want what they can spend?
Where's your place for them?

Now don't tell me that you don't see these things all sideways
I wish that you might one day see things my way

I know what you say, you say you serve the youth
You serve them Bizkits and Korn with a spoon
But I think you just serve you
Where's the place at the table for folks like us
When there's no one that we can trust?
Where's the place for us?

Now don't tell me that you don't see these things all sideways
I hope that you might one day see these things my way

That's my rant, I bet it don't make a dent
I waste all these little laments
And wait for accidents
So go on buy it all, buy it all and sell it off
The towers, the meters, the speakers, the knobs
Send it back to God

Just don't tell me that you don't see these things all sideways
And don't tell me that I might one day see things your way

We should kick your ass from here to Friday
Then maybe you might one day see these things my way

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Defiance is its own reward.
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too dumb to know better B

a great deal remains unreported

Stuff is going on.

For now it still feels more like leaves swirling in a dust devil -- lots of commotion, fluttering, interesting to watch -- but not a lot of form or purpose.

Maybe stuff will coalesce into stuff worth publicly commenting upon.

Maybe it will continue to not.

Maybe a blimp will fall on me.

Life is funny that way: whatever bad news you think you're prepared for, you get the other kind.

Onwards.
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B