
Lyrics
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A Song to Himself (Juarez)
He wears a blue suede cowboy hat
Got a juarez women stretched out on his lap
He sings an old song
A song to himself
He sings waiting round to die
One border whorehouse looks just like another
But he first came to this one with his father and his brother
Now nobody cares one way or another
He sings an old song
A song to himself
He sings waiting round to die
There is a plump woman attending bar
He holds hands with another plump woman named starr
Lays a twenty on the table by the pigs feet jar
Sings an old song
Song to himself
He sings waiting round to die
A beautiful woman
Wraps around his shoulder
Eyes painted like clay
Except colder
She says hell of a deal
ain’t it
This getting older
He sings an old song
Asong to himself
He sings waiting round to die.
Waiting round to die
Waiting round to die
He thinks
Who in the world would write a song like that
Then the two plump women
Start laughing at his hat
So he pulls another twenty out
Just like that
Sings an old song, song to himself
He sings waiting round to die.
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Orphan
She used to say she was an orphan
Never was exactly the truth
It’s just her mother got tired
Tired of her hanging round
So she ended up living in a home for girls
A straight hair kid in a house full of curls
A straight haired kid always hanging around
She’d sing swing low
Sweet chariot
She’s coming for to carry me home
So the first chance she got she said I do
To a tall town boy who said me too
Honorable mention all district quarterback
He said I’ll carry you away
She left him drunk on a stool in a county line bar
Going on about high school
How he was a star
She just got tired, tired of him hanging around
She’d sing swing low
Sweet chariot
She’s coming for to carry me home
dairy queen
Had two baby boys two more diamond rings
The husbands they were brave
But she split that one horse town
Just got tired all the people hanging around
Split that one horse town
Now she lives outside LA
With a broke down baseball player
Used to playdouble A
Religious man
Never drinks or swears
She’s tired of all the talk about her
Getting saved
Tired of all the talk about
Revelation days
She’s tired
Tired of him hanging around
She sings swing low
Sweet chariot
She’s coming for to carry me home
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Slots
She lives in a trailer on the outskirts of Reno
Plays quarter slots
In the local’s casino
Every round goes higher, higher
She sings soldiers of the cross
A drink in one hand
Coins in the other
They drop in the slot
One after another
Every round goes higher, higher
She sings soldiers of the cross
When was it
48 49
She was a girl
On the hill county line
In a church with no screens
She waved a paper fan
She sang soldiers of the cross
She needs lights
She needs action
She needs change for a ten
She needs camels please
Good lord she needs gin
Every round goes higher, higher
She sings soldiers of the cross
She sings we are climbing jacob’s ladder
We are climbing jacob’s ladder
We are climbing jacob’s ladder
She sings soldiers of the cross
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Pretty World
Before the sun
Before the heat
Before we untangle from our sheets
Before this summer day unfurls
Pretty world
Before the paper is dropped at the gate
Before the coffee before we are late
Before dreams are lost like midnight pearls
Pretty world, pretty roses
Pretty smile morning light
Pretty eyes lazy curls
Pretty world
Before the traffic before the jets
Before the sound of your footsteps
Fades away like summer girls
Pretty World
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Odessa
He was an odessa boy with a daddy in the money
Played for mojo back in the boom
Drove a corvette
Took what he wanted
People learned to give him lots of room
He never learned to work
But that never really mattered
Cause the dark crude flowed
The wild oats scattered
Dark crude flowed
He fought he flattered
And he got what he wanted
It was the only thing that mattered
Life was easy
The big jacks pumped
Pulling cash from the permian field
Cabinets full of high-grade scotch
Garage full of high-speed steel
He never learned to work
But that never really mattered
Cause the dark crude flowed
The wild oats scattered
Dark crude flowed
Dark crude flowed
He fought he flattered
And he got what he wanted
that was the only thing that mattered
He killed a girl when he rolled the corvette
Daddy’s money made her lawyers go away
His mother bought vodka with all that cash
She kind of knew
Yeah she kind of knew
He’s an old man now
Lives on his dead daddy’s place
Never took a wife
He is going to die without a trace
See he loved the girl who was penned in the vette
Talks to her everyday
Her face was blood and diamonds
He remembers her that way
He never learned to work
But that never really mattered
Cause the dark crude flowed
The wild oats scattered
Dark crude flowed
He fought he flattered
And he got what he wanted
It was the only thing that mattered
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Sweetly Undone
I watch you at the pool
Slowly undress
Spread your towel on st augustine
Lay down and rest
Lay down and rest
Lay down in the sun
Lay down with your top
Sweetly undone
There are cardinals and roses
We’ve had lots of rain
You’ve got a book on africa
I’ve got twain
Lay down and rest
Lay down in the sun
Lay down with your top
Sweetly undone
Remember new years eve
And no it’s not a test
At the top of the stairs
You slowly undressed
You slowly undressed
Oh father oh son
Slowly undress
Sweetly undone
Sweetly undone
One red rose is lovely in the sun
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Psychic
So the psychic on the lower east side
The pakistani woman with the pretty green eyes
She said its time to choose
Too late to hide
You’ve got to choose
Choose between lies
Or you can choose truth
But you’ve got to decide which feels better
When it’s next to you
Right by your side
Gotta choose truth
Or you gotta choose lies
It’s been paid for in spades
And drinks at the bar
Paid for in feathers
Feathers and tar
Look out the window broken glass in the yard
You think that’s what happens when you let down your guard
But things just happen things fall apart
And then all of the king’s men have to depart
When things get dicey
There’s an open heart
All the king’s men have to depart
It’s not your husband’s move or his hired hand
He uses whips on the horses
He’s that kind of man
You pretend he whispers
So you don’t take a stand
But there are scars on the flanks
They look like fans
The horses are scared
Their eyes roll white
They ever get loose
They get loose some night
They ever get loose
They’ll be gone by light
The horses are scared
Their eyes roll white
The Pakistani women on the lower east side
The psychic with the pretty green eyes
Said it’s time to choose
It’s too late to hide
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Boxes
There is a woman who puts things in boxes
Keepsakes mostly of her kids
Snapshots of gap-toothed boys and girls
Pictures and drawings they did
Trophies and ribbons
A old newspaper clip the young bride
A stack of old valentines cards
I love you is written inside
There’s a hat something borrowed
There’s a veil something new
There’s a bible something old
There’s a letter something blue
A letter something blue
Came on a day that turned black
A grateful nation informs you
Your first lieutenant is not coming back
There are valentine cards
There are valentine cards
Some flowers carefully dried
There are valentine cards
Valentine cards
I love you is written inside
There is a woman who puts things in boxes
Keepsakes mostly of her kids
Snapshots of gap-toothed boys and girls
Pictures and drawings they did
Trophies and ribbons
Newspaper clip a young bride
A stack of Old valentine cards
I love you is written inside
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Broken Fingers
How long
How long ago
16 years
Everyday
Of course I know
Of course I know
Forget his face?
Of course I don’t
Etched like a crystal vase
These broken fingers
Some things don’t heal
I can’t wake up from a dream
When the dream is real
These broken fingers
Forget his eyes?
His silhouette?
Of course I don’t
Of course I don’t forget
There are blue eyes
A silhouette
There is a debt
A debt I don’t forget
How long
How long ago
Sixteen years every day of course I know
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Credit
The Band
Sam Baker Voice, acoustic guitar, harmonica
Mike Daly Pedal Steel guitar, slide guitar
Ron DeLaVega Upright Bass, cello
Mickey Grimm Drums, percussion
Tim Lorsch Octave violin, Violin, Mandolin
Rick Plant Electric Guitar
Walt Wilkins Acoustic Guitar, voice
Guest Artists
Chris Baker-Davies Voice Odessa
Joel Guzman Accordion A Song to Himself (Juarez)
Lloyd Maines Dobro, pedal steel Slots, Odessa
Bill McDermott Pump organ, electric guitar Slots, Psychic
Fats Kaplan Accordion Pretty World, Sweetly Undone, Days
Gurf Morlix Voice, electric guitar A Song to Himself (Juarez), Broken Fingers
Davis Raines Voice Slots
Marcia Ramirez Voice Orphan, Pretty World
Britt Savage Voice Slots
Recorded June through December 2006
Dog Den Studio
Nashville, Tennessee
Bismeaux Studio
Austin, Texas
Engineer: Chris The Fire Burns
Final Mix:
Bill McDermott
Dog Den Studio
Nashville, Tennessee
Photography: S. Baker
R. Mayes
Master
Jerry Tubb Terra Nova Digital Audio Inc. Austin Texas
For Janie and Ollie.
All songs by Sam Baker (BlueLimeStone Publishing copyright 2007 SESAC) except:
Swing Low Sweet Chariot Traditional
Jacobs Ladder Traditional
Hard Times Come Again No More Stephen Collins Foster July 4, 1826 – January 13, 1864
Walt Wilkins appears courtesy of Highway 29 Records.
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