My Old Record Store

by Dallet Band

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1.
Moneymen mayhem the inns are full in Bethlehem, top ten to them pick to please the minutemen, don't let regret stop to learn the two step, all set place bets on the glory you'll get. No hell to tell I'm in love with Kristen Bell, so swell feel well coming out of my shell, new pride to light ponder preacher's pot plight, life aint much without a giant appetite. So sing us the borrowed tunes, the one's everyone knows the words to, as they pimp it at the price that's just right for you- the bye bye middle class blues. Kick ass middle class 20 for a movie pass, over priced sufficed raped by the price of gas. No care health care too much to share, I swear beware no one said life was fair. Play Thor so bored what's one more war, eye sores galore drill off my shore, swallow swords eat words use pens no more, they've heard before the troubadour folklore. That sings us the borrowed tunes, the ones everyone knows the words to. As they pimp it at the price just right for you the bye bye middle class blues. Not long so wrong no collective bargain, big thanks O.H. glad you could negotiate, Wisconsin obscondin' with my pension fund, with thee I'm fond damn the worker's union. Black crown shut down the government downtown, excpect no check the bills we'll still collect. No go furlough makes them forego fun to fund congress cause boy that's essential. To sing us the borrowed tunes, the ones everyone knows the words to, as they pimp it at the price just right for you the bye bye middle class blues. Get bent dough spent raise the rent 10 percent, bad clues to use working man you lose. Two jobs boss slobs, serve nobs nonstop decree degree useless you'll see. To sing us the borrowed tunes, the ones everyone knows the words to, as they pimp it at the price just right for you, the bye bye middle class blues.
2.
Backwood boys with their cistern toys reflect the clouds of childhood joys 'cause there's no such thing as a forest there anymore. The Salem saints have been defaced and the Seibenthaler hawks have been erased 'cause progress mean sleaving them all behind. Take your caddy to the boarded eye of old 130 Marson Drive the body's there but the soul left long ago. Linger do the ghosts of Frigidaire, suffered same fate as the Mead book squares and the engineer says: kid you got a lot to learn about being an American. Rust in peace Daytontown, rust in peace Daytontown someday to you the debts will be repaid. Rust in peace Daytontown rust in peace Daytontown from the ashes will your glory be reclaimed. North Riverdale freezes in the ice stained night and crumbles to the ground does Colonel White 'cause they aint been born no rich man's son. Main Street Highway 48 rots and slides into decay as violence knocks hard on poverty's door. Claim to fame to the birth of flight all hail the protection of Patterson-Wright and whats all wrong plaese soon make right. Student Flyers give life to town as do the spawn of E.J. Brown but they're getting harder and harder to spot these days. So rust in peace Daytontown rust in peace Daytontown someday to you the debts will be repaid. Rust in peace Daytontown rust in peace Daytontown from the ashes will your glory be reclaimed. Oh the fat rich ones will save the dough at the expense of the poor who will die slow at the hand of the good old American way. While the Wall Street pimps will slap the grins off the Main Street whores who reap the sins of the drop in price that makes it easier to sell your soul. By depression you mean its the little man's problem. Good Old Sam will keep the corpse of Main Hardware's once strong force that helped them build what they now destroy. Man at odds with forgotten jobs and the promise once held by the high end slobs who say: that trickle down will take effect soon enough. Miami Valley will keep its tally on the rust belt slaves who soon will rally to occupy what has been taken from them. Daytontown riches to rags be killed to take no part of heaven and no part of hell just to sleep and dream when everything went well. So rust in peace Daytontown rust in peace Daytontown someday to you the debts will be repaid. Rust in peace Daytontown rust in peace Daytontown from the ashes will your glory be reclaimed.
3.
Once upon a time when life was young and the art of communication, came in the form of poetry dancing to tunes of innovation. Flawless licks and priceless pics made up a square of revolution. Hidden inside are stories to find that give birth to stories of their own. On 52nd Street along a Cold Spring Harbor, an LA Woman played in a bowl of Hollywood Strange Days. Pieces of You were found in the days of August and Everything After inside my old record store. Worn torn walls muralled bathroom stalls, platnimum vinyl trophies in a case. Letters written from those smitten to any reckognizable face. Dust and dinge give a personal tinge to a mess thats just not messy at, to all serve as a sanctuary where the dead can live on. Face The Music Against The Wind Sticky Fingers on a Velvet Revolver. Cat's Fever Scratch left Blood on the Tracks of Goodman's City of New Orleans. Dagon's Magic Puff Thunderbirds Tuff Enuff Eight Ball Blues sink the corner pocket inside my old record store. Nicotine stick and the rotted brick house vagrants of creative mind. purple faced rants and smoke pot plants numbing colors of psychedelic kind. Volumes of books now you have to look up exactly who sang that rhyme. Against time they've never been left behind. Breaking Bread After the Gold Rush to curb an Appetite for Destruction. Big Momma's Dog Hound made Pet Sounds to woo the Ladies of the Canyon. Phish stuck in Undertow down Young's Bridges Road that left me Running on Empty toward my old record store. Phone behavior curt no feelings hurt our discounts are in the prices. They're back in town but they cause a frown 'cause they're a mockery of themselves. 33 LP tape to CD VHS to DVD Rays of blu's singing the now obsolete blues. Imagine no wars to a blind man's score jammin' Dreams Over the Rainbow. Stuck in Traffic's Winwood, I Feel Good only Live at the Apollo. Hills of Fools Within Without You and I bet you can't Guess Who inside my old record store. Neon lights gentrification flights and a rich man at the door. Internet tricks and they're purchsed quick give me what I want right now. People stand wine glass in hand skirts and suits and posh galore, inside my old record store. Call the Police the Blind Man's Zoo is On the Road Again. Goodbye Yellow Brickroad The Crickets no show'd indeed the Times They Are A' Changin'. One of These Nights, the Nighthawks at the Diner will sing no more inside my old record store.

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Commentary plus folk plus rock equals good old fashioned Folk n' Roll.

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released May 30, 2014

Songs Written By: Jeffrey Dallet
Album Produced By: Glenn Sawyer and Rich Veltrop of The Spot Studios Lakewood, Colorado.

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Dallet Band Denver, Colorado

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