Wide Lawns and Narrow Minds words & music by John Kimsey (John Kimsey Tunes / ASCAP) Wide lawns and narrow minds Makes a man healthy wealthy and why ask why When you got yours yes and I got mine Here’s to wide lawns and narrow minds We are bullish on ameriquest We report, you subside Down below decks we hear things is abject But up top the panoramic view’s a crime Wide lawns and narrow minds Makes a man healthy wealthy and wine wine wine Spodeeodee drinking wine while the cut glass shines Have another wide lawn and put a deuce on pepperdine dine dine We reserve the right, we rule the waves And we waive the rules when it’s pay the piper time All it takes is brass and a well-bred overclass To ensure the proper credit’s paid in kind, in kind, Credit’s paid in Kindly beware that life isn’t fair We each must bear the burden we’re assigned Some sign here and some pay dear And a lucky few slip through without a fine Wide lawns and narrow minds Makes a man healthy wealthy and why ask why is One man’s bonus another man’s subprime Chalk it up to wide lawns and narrow minds Well they say that great ship when it set sail Yeah they said it was too damn big to fail Well you might be underwater, you might be starting to flail Take a look at the fine print, it says don’t exhale hale hale all hail to Wide lawns and narrow minds Makes a man healthy wealthy and why why why why why why

Elvis on Velvet words & music by John Kimsey (John Kimsey Tunes / ASCAP) Last evening you and me we had our usual fight And I went out driving and drinking and cussing the night And somewhere ‘bout dawn I was out on the interstate strip When I pulled in a truck stop, thinking I’d pick up some little making-up gift And as I looked around at the selection of post cards and coasters and corncob pipes My eyes came to rest on something familiar I’d never quite seen in that light It was a souvenir Meant to bring a tear: Elvis on velvet Wasn’t anything great, just a cheaply made dayglo affair And it depicted the King in his later and lonelier years But it set me to thinking ‘bout all that I’d done in my life And two kids who met back in ’57 who went on to be man and wife And they might have been fools to rush in but they were young and they had no doubts They just liked to dance all night long to “Baby, Let’s Play House” And their love was true But now it’s just misty blue Like Elvis on velvet Now the King is no longer with us, but his spirit lives on In the hearts of his fans, in his pictures and of course in his songs And even in truck stops I guess, ‘cause as I stared at that thing I thought for a moment I saw his lip quiver like when he was fixing to sing And then somebody turned a radio on and it was playing “That’s All Right” And I thought to myself hell, the King ain’t gone and there’s still good rockin’ tonight And I’ve been a fool But I’m gonna be on you Like Elvis on velvet ‘Cause our love ain’t through Baby I go with you Like Elvis on velvet

One More Time words & music by John Kimsey (John Kimsey Tunes / ASCAP) I’m gonna take this old rig I’m gonna drive it off the road one more time I’m gonna take these old wheels I’m gonna drag’em through the mud one more time Well I used to keep’em pretty but you have to get’em dirty To really drive And feel alive I’m gonna take this old rig I’m gonna drive it off the road one more time And let’s take that old flag And run it up the pole one more time It’s torn and it’s tattered but that ain’t the thing that matters When it flies When it flies You wanna take that old flag And run it up the pole one more Time to take That guitar break That one way up the neck And find that one note And worry it to death One more time I’m gonna take this old heart I’m gonna let it fall in love one more time It’s been broke and it’s been busted, I’m not sure it can be trusted Here tonight To get it right But I’m gonna take this old heart I’m gonna drive it off the road I’m gonna drag it through the mud I’m gonna run it up the pole, I’m gonna worry it to death I’m gonna let it fall in love One more time

Lydia words & music by John Kimsey (John Kimsey Tunes / ASCAP) Lydia lives by the lake In a building designated as section eight Far from the halls of debate Where they talk of excess and the nanny state Rise and shine, Lydia leans on the ledge That hovers over the city’s edge Like a forgotten pledge Lydia watches the kids Reads in the paper about bad things she did Else she’d be getting ahead Not scrimping to make the price of day-old bread Time for school, Lydia sits and sews Designer logos on jogging clothes Then does the third shift at Domino’s Keeping the pace Keeping a home Keep in your place While keeping on and on Lydia makes it a date Midnight and the broken set can get channel eight Dynasty reruns on late Private lives of the rich and celebrated Everyone looks like a million bucks Some people they just have all the luck They say you can make it if you really try What was that old song by that dead guy Something ‘bout fortune and you or I Keeping the pace Keeping a home Keep in your place While keeping on and on

Talking Talk Radio words & music by John Kimsey (John Kimsey Tunes / ASCAP) The other day I switched my radio on I wanted to hear my favorite song I flipped the dial, I punched and pushed All I could get was some guy named Rush Funny name for a talking head Must be a show about legalization He talked and talked and slammed the phones Never said nothin’ ‘bout turnin’ on He did however have a lot to say ‘Bout truth, justice and the American way ‘Specially the American way of bullying the weak, sucking up to the powerful But hey -- if the flag fits, drape yourself in it, I always say He told some jokes about uppity girls Welfare cheats, the starving third world Everybody was entertained Here at the top of the old foodchain, har de har You got a problem with that? Well, go start your own new world order, you sissy Hey, he said, it’s just my style If you don’t like it, flip the dial There’s so many voices, that’s the wonder – “This is G. Gordon Liddy, Live from the Fuhrerbunker” It’s not like over in Russia Nope, here we’re loaded with options Now God sent Regan, Rush believes To set the corporations free Playing by rules they was oppressed Then along came Ron with the Code of the West You see one redwood, you’ve seen ’em all, let ’em eat cactus The sacred word of the profit (motive) And Rush is the kind of self-made man Whose Pappy owned the station where he began But Rush had to work for what he achieved Old Daddy Warbucks was hard to please He used to say, “Boy -- get out in that studio, Get some headphones on And get your hair mussed!” And Rush is the kind of gung-ho hawk Who somehow never marched or fought Or served in any capacity Now draft dodger, that’s a rather nasty term Let’s just say Rush would never join any army That would have him as a member We interrupt the evening blues For some Important Celebrity News Rush it seems has just been reached And he fears that his sacred freedom of speech Is threatened by just this sort of politically correct Bleeding heart Mealy mouthed Pointyheaded Sob sister Big brother Treehugger Class warfare Special interest Ivory tower Liberal media Card carrying Cultural elitist Blatantly biased Propagandistic Oughta be blacklisted Funny looking Feminazi Ad hominem Ad womanem Ad nauseam Are you now or have you ever been Ants at the picnic of western civilization This is so typical There you go again Way outside the mainstream Nitpicking Name-calling Vegetable Aryan Anti-American Nya na nee ya na Na na na nee ya na Attempt to silence Our country’s most sincere, hardworking and popular neofascist talkshow host To which I can only say Hey, what’s the matter, Rush -- Can’t you take a joke? Or as they say in Radioland Ditto

Draining the Swamp words & music by John Kimsey (John Kimsey Tunes / ASCAP) They say it’s dirty and it’s stagnant and it’s Full of things that buzz and crawl It’s a headache and an eyesore and an Insult to the law So they’re draining the swamp They’re draining the swamp Twisted roots gonna be torn up Draining the swamp They got troopers and a task force They got a steamshovel and a crank They got pastor and some bastard With a title from the bank And they’re draining the swamp They’re draining the swamp And it’s making my hair stand up Draining the swamp Now the queen was carried through here on a Catafalque trailing smoke When they unraveled her silk pajamas they only found the Punchline of a joke Now it’s made everybody kind of nervous And me I’m loading the Econoline I ain’t had to drink no whiskey I’m already stagger-blind from Draining the swamp Draining the swamp You never know what might turn up Draining the swamp

Mole in the Ground words & melody traditional; arr. by John & Jim Kimsey (John Kimsey Tunes / ASCAP) Well I wish I was a mole in the ground Yes I wish I was a mole in the ground If I’s a mole in the ground, I’d root that mountain down And I wish I was a mole in the ground Well I’ve been in the bin so log Yes I’ve been in the bin so long Well I’ve been in the bin with the rough and rowdy men ‘Til it’s baby where you been so long Don’t work for a railroad man Don’t work for a railroad man Well a railroad man, he’ll kill you if he can And drink up your blood like wine And I wish I was a lizard in the spring Yes I wish I was a lizard in the spring If I’s a lizard in the spring, I’d hear my darlin’ sing And I wish I was a lizard in the spring And I wish I was a mole in the ground Yes I wish I was a mole in the ground If I’s a mole in the ground, I’d root that mountain down And I wish I was a mole in the ground

Spin This words & music by John Kimsey (John Kimsey Tunes / ASCAP) People gather round You can’t afford to be without the secret that I’ve found Ain’t nothin’ that can’t be made somethin’ by Spinnin’, spinnin’, spinnin’ Sow’s ear into silk purse, better case into the worse Spinnin’, spinnin, spinnin’ Spinnin’ makes the world go round I can put the best face On what looks like a lowdown dirty disgrace Have instinct for jugular, will travel Spin this, spin this, spin this Hello Mr. Radio, have you met Ms. Trade-io Spin this, spin this, spin this Hi-yo silver tongue for hire Them that’s got shall fund them what gets things done Making offers that no one can refuse Never using knives or guns Brain damage control It’s as American as sex or drugs or rock and roll The nothin’ who made himself somethin’ hey Spin this, spin this, spin this All it takes is attitude and a little vacuum tube Spin this, spin this, spin this Anyway reality isn’t what it used to be Spin this, spin this, spin this When the world has vertigo, someone’s gonna stoop so low Spin this, spin this, spin this Spin it ‘til you can’t spin no more And as for me old son, just turn me when I’m done And if I can’t be saved I’ll spin in my grave And help the devil hit number one Spin this spin this spin this Spin this spin this spin this Spin this spin this

Alibi Club words & music by John Kimsey (John Kimsey Tunes / ASCAP) Down at the Alibi Club They’re making a toast They’re drinking to Bangkok at night and to drilling rights just off the coast So here’s looking at mud in your eye God save the old school tie And the Alibi Club Down at the Alibi Club Everyone is a gent Who’s made his own way in the world with the aid of some very fine print You’re surrounded by your kind of folk Life’s just an inside joke Down at the Alibi Club Some keep a lowly station Others were meant to lead It’s a high-powered equation In the algebra of greed Down at the Alibi Club That’s where the elite Retire to hoist a few and review the day’s moral balance sheet You can talk about means versus ends But they’re all such honorable men Down at the Alibi Club Sometimes to save the village You have to burn it down The awful weight of privilege In a company town Down at the Alibi Club Can I get a denial Someone who will stand up and fail to recall in that plausible style Because this meeting never occurred And this song was never heard Down at the Alibi Club Oh no

What’s Wrong With This Picture? words & music by John Kimsey (John Kimsey Tunes / ASCAP) Dig the King with his TCB ring dressed like the Prisoner of Zenda He’s shaking hands with the secret plan man from Yorbalinda He wants to be authorized, be deputized, please Mr. Nixon “I Elvis Presley do solemnly swear” What’s wrong with this picture? See the Gipper on his campaign trip after one term has rolled by Explaining how he so bravely faced down those air traffic control guys He’s got the Boss on the PA, Born in the USA blisterin’ My my hey hey that’s showbiz What’s wrong with this picture? What’s wrong with this picture it looks so lame Should I laugh, should I cry, should I order a frame You can airbrush over every little shadow of doubt But some things you just can’t crop out Inauguration time 1989 and everybody is sportin’ At the gala for the white anglo male elected by Willie Horton They got a band full of soul brothers in tow, the head dirty trickster He loves to play that funky music white boy What’s wrong with this picture? What’s wrong with this picture it hurts my brain My sense of proportion is circling the drain You can airbrush over every little shadow of doubt But some things you just can’t crop out What’s wrong with this picture, what’s wrong with me Do you see what I see and if so should we Just airbrush over every little shadow of doubt ‘Cause some things you just can’t crop out Some things you just can’t crop out

John Kimsey -- lead & harmony vocals; 12-string & six string acoustic guitars

How Can I Keep From Singing Robert Wadsworth Lowry (Public Domain); arr. Kimsey (John Kimsey Tunes / ASCAP) A life flows on in endless song Above earth's lamentation I hear the real, though far-off hymn That hails a new creation Above the tumult and the strife I hear that music ringing It sounds an echo in my soul How can I keep from singing? And though the tempest loudly roars I know the truth, it liveth What though the darkness round me close Songs in the night it giveth No storm can shake my inmost calm While to that rock I'm clinging If love is lord of Heaven and Earth How can I keep from singing? When tyrants tremble, sick with fear And hear their death-knells ringing When friends rejoice both far and near How can I keep from singing? In prison cell and dungeon vile Our thoughts to them are winging When friends by shame are undefiled How can I keep from singing?

music by John Kimsey (John Kimsey Tunes / ASCAP)

Going Up the Country words & music by Alan Wilson (EMI / Unart) Well I’m going up the country, friend don’t you wanna go I’m going up the country, friend don’t you wanna go I’m going to some place where I never been before I’m gonna leave the city got get away I’m gonna leave the city got get away All this fussin’ and fightin’ man, you know I sure can’t stay No use in your running or screaming and crying ‘Cause you got a home as long as I got mine Well I’m going up the country, friend don’t you wanna go I’m going up the country, friend don’t you wanna go I’m going to some place where I never been before