new songs

THE GOLDEN GATE BRIDGE

You can run but it’s still gonna getcha
It ain’t nice to fool mother nature
You can hide but she’ll sniff you out
She knows what those demons are lying about
And it’s another late night all alone in here
I’m wide awake and nearly out of beer
It’s seeping in through the cracks in the curtain
Deny all you want but you know it’s for certain
It’s time for some stomping and banging
Leave all you want but don’t leave a man hanging
A shiny car and some really nice digs
Another man’s jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge

Is this how it’s supposed to be
An attempt at moral ambiguity
An attempt at writing what you know is wrong
Bring them all a circus and leave em with a song
Cracker Jack palaces, casinos at dawn
Last time I seen him he was puking in the lawn
Laying on the stage in a fetal position
Blowing our brains and raiding our kitchens
A bunch of owed moneys that will never be paid
A really great album that will never be made
Nothings in the cupboard and nothings in the fridge
Another man’s jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge

Things can turn on a dime but it’s hard to tell
The last time I checked I was still crazy as hell
Walking on the rail and dancing on air
Gravity decides what happens and where
I still remember how to ring that bell
Last time I checked I was still crazy as hell
It’s a thin thin line between madness and genius
Walking on that cable and man you should have seen us
It only takes a second to flip that lid
Another man’s jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge
Every man and woman got some things to keep hid
Another man’s jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge

Patterson Hood – May 21 and 24, 2007 – Athens GA (office)

The Monument Valley

It’s all about where you put the horizon
Said the Great John Ford to the young man rising
You got to frame it just right and have some luck of course
And it helps to have a tall man sitting on the horse
Tell them just enough to still leave them some mystery
A grasp of the ironic nature of history
A man turns his back on the comforts of home
The Monument Valley to ride off alone

And when the dust all settles and the story is told
History is made by the side of the road
By the men and women that can persevere
And rage through the storm, no matter how severe
And whether it’s a horse or a car or a train
There’s gonna be some fine times and there’s gonna be some pain
In the end it’s a sillouette framed by the sun
And just The Monument Valley when the evening comes

It’s a strong wind blowing on the open range
It’s going to beautiful and it’s gonna be strange
It’s where to plant the camera and when to say action
When to print the legend and when to leave the facts in
And when to turn your back on the comforts of home
And wander round The Monument Valley alone

Patterson Hood – May 23 2007 – Athens GA (office, early evening)
For John Ford

THAT MAN I SHOT

That man I shot, He was trying to kill me
He was trying to kill me He was trying to kill me
That man I shot I didn’t know him
I was just doing my job, maybe so was he

That man I shot, I was in his homeland
I was there to help him but he didn’t want me there
I did not hate him, I still don’t hate him
He was trying to kill me and I had to take him down

That man I shot, I still can see him
When I should be sleeping, tossing and turning
He’s looking at me, eyes looking through me
Break out in cold sweats when I see him standing there

That man I shot, shot not in anger
There’s no denying it was in self-defense
But when I close my eyes, I still can see him
I feel his last breath in the calm dead of night

That man I shot, He was trying to kill me
He was trying to kill me, He was trying to kill me
Sometimes I wonder if I should be there
I hold my little ones until he disappears

I hold my little ones until he disappears
I hold my little ones until we disappear
And I’m not crazy or at least I never was
But there’s this big thing that can’t get rid of

That man I shot did he have little ones
That he was so proud of that he won’t see grow up
Was walking down his street, maybe I was in his yard
Was trying to do good I just don’t understand

Patterson Hood – March 9, 2007 (office)

THE HOME FRONT

She sees the names in black and white
Every Sunday morning
Now she’s feeling she’s been lied to
As his name’s across the screen
She wasn’t looking for an answer
Just trying to hold on
Sometimes she feels like she is falling
In a cavern with her baby in her arms

The hours creep across the face
As she paces across the floor
She can’t even get to sleep since Tony went to war
She feels bitchslapped and abandoned
By a world she thought she knew
Cold beyond comprehension as their little girl turns two

Now they’re saying on the flat screen
They ain’t found a reason yet
We’re all bogged down in a quagmire
And there aint no end to it
No Nine Eleven or Uranium to pin the bullshit on
She’s left standing on the home front
The two of them alone

Patterson Hood / January 31, 2007 / (Chase Park Transduction)

ALL THE LESSER MONSTERS

All the lesser monsters are asking for their share
Of the soul that you sold out to cover up transgressions
The teleprompter road show keeps pounding at the fringes
As they slug fest for the middle and alienate the viewers

Meanwhile the mercy angel keeps screaming from the trenches
But nobody seems to listen, deafened by the screw-ups
Wait for the announcement: the amateur hour is over
When the curtain drops its time to reinvent yourself again

Screw top headless cupie-dolls sound off “all is well”
Lap-dance for the ratings and dry-hump in the sewers
Dog shit down the standards of the already mediocre
Sanitized deodorized replaced by something newer

All the lesser monsters wait for the big one to fall
On our heads like Chicken Little and give the ratings massive boost
And though we try our best to avoid it death is sharpening her claws
To pounce down upon us and reduce us all to food

Boy, the deities are laughing as they’re sitting on their toilets
Reading all our private dailies and the minutes of our lives
Guess even Gods need diversion to keep their minds from blowing
And shutting down the circuits and fading into blue sky

Gonna fade into blue sky…

Patterson Hood – I-20W en route to Jackson MS. August 20, 2004 /
Backstage “Down on the Farm” Festival, Tallahassee FL. November 10,2006 /
Office, Athens GA January 12, 2007 Finally!

BIG RED SWINGSET

One day I’ll quit this road
Think I’ll buy a farm
See what life’s about
With you in my arms
We can get a tractor, maybe grow some grapes
Learn to love the simple life with money in the bank

One day I’ll quit these bands
Maybe go to Spain
Or maybe southern France
Sounds good either way
Put a big red swing set in front of the palace
Maybe knock you up again if I get the chance

Got it figured out
What this thing’s about
Miles to drive to wait around
And think how much I miss you
Living what I dreamed of
Wonderful and mean enough
Guess I just can’t get enough
Ringing in my eardrum

One day I’ll quit this road
Take you in my arms
Show you all them places
That I wrote about on postcards
Or we can sit around and watch the front lawn grass grow tall
Maybe I can get to know Georgia in the fall

Daddy’s coming home soon, Daddy’s coming home
Play it loud when I’m gone, Daddy’s coming home
(repeat as necessary)

Patterson Hood – May 29, 2006 – Iberia Airlines 49-D (NYC to Madrid)

SHOULDAHAPPENEDSOONER

SHOULDAHAPPENEDSOONER
But it took so long
It shoulda been bigger
Shoulda never been wrong
Coulda happened better
Shoulda been more strong
SHOULDAHAPPENEDSOONER

Shoulda moved slower
when I was already late
Louder than a leaf blower
when you was trying to sleep
Shoulda been a bigger bastard
When I was told to be nice
Shoulda never taken
99% of that good advice

I know the difference between IS and WAS
One gets the gravy and one gets puss
SHOULDAHAPPENEDSOONER

I know the difference between LOTS and SOME
One gets the cannon and one gets the gun
SHOULDAHAPPENEDSOONER

I know the difference between toast and a turd
I know my Stratton from my Pallenberg
SHOULDAHAPPENEDSOONER

Patterson Hood - Back from the Cruisemuthafuckas 1/10/07 (office)

TWO DAUGHTERS AND A BEAUTIFUL WIFE

When he reached the gates of heaven
He didn’t understand
He knew that folks were coming over
Or was it all a dream?
Was it all a crazy dream?

He saw them playing there before him
What were they doing there?
It felt like home, It must be alright
Or is it just a dream?
Is it just a crazy dream?

But then memories replay before him
All the tiny moments of his life
Laying round in bed on a Saturday morning
Two daughters and a wife
Two daughters and a beautiful wife

Meanwhile on Earth his friends came over
Shocked and horrified
Dolls and flowers at the storefront
Everybody cried
Everybody cried and cried

Is there vengeance up in heaven?
Are those things left behind?
Maybe everyday is Saturday morning
Two daughters and a wife
Two daughters and a beautiful wife
Two daughters and a beautiful wife

Patterson Hood – December 19, 2006
For The Harvey Family, Richmond VA

STRINGBEAN

When they found Stringbean murdered
He was laying in the front room and his wife was on the lawn
Wads of hundreds in his pockets and none of it was gone
It was rumored there were thousands in the cellar in some jars
A three-room shack, no plumbing, a Cadillac in the yard

When they found Stringbean murdered
No one at The Opry quite knew what to say
Paranoia and suspicion in Nashville USA
Country stars built mansions with high stone-walls and gates
It was Grandpa Jones that found him that way

When they found Stringbean murdered
There were hints and allegations and panic on the farms
If this could happen to him, we better take up arms
Old-timers took the money they had hidden in some jars
And opened up bank accounts to shelter them from harm

When they found Stringbean murdered
The letter from his mother was no doubt by his heart
The scarecrow stayed in the field to memorialize his lot
The treasure remained hidden safe behind the hearth
Until time and bulldozers made their mark

When they found Stringbean murdered
There was shock and trepidation in rural USA
The Depression Generation opened bank accounts next day
The killers were convicted and sent away to stay
It was Grandpa Jones that found them that way

Grandpa Jones found them that way
Grandpa Jones ate breakfast alone until his dying day


Patterson Hood – December 2006 (office, Athens GA) / January 21, 2007

GRANDPA PAT

Granddaddy’s lunchbox sat on the counter
Where he left it after a long hard day
Pipe-fitting at Brown’s Ferry, he always had a headache
He’d sleep in the chair until it’d go away

Granddaddy’s lunchbox was packed every morning
With bad coffee and a sandwich that he ate at the plant
Building the world’s biggest nuclear reactor
He could do the work of three or four men

But to see him at home on a Sunday
With his little granddaughter on knee
Was to never guess how hard he was working
To provide for the rest of the family

Granddaddy moved wherever work took him
And when it was over he’d move on again
My grandmother stayed and kept up the home place
Would fly up and visit him every now and then

And when he’d come home there’d be chores on a list
Furniture to build and go-carts to fix
He and I painted the pier at the lake
He taught me that nothing worthwhile comes quick

Graddaddy’s lunchbox sits on a shelf
Brown’s Ferry’s shut down and Granddaddy’s gone
Except for his soul which still lives in us all
Keeping us centered and thoughtful and strong

Sometimes I can still see him in my dreams
With a smile on his face and my sister on his knee
My Grandmother cooking turnip greens and cornbread
To serve up nice and hot for the whole family


Patterson Hood – December 1 2006 (Office – Athens GA)
For William Marshall Patterson (1920-1983)

RETIREMENT COMMUNITY

Old folks moving in from miles around
To drive real slow as the sun goes down
Play some golf, rake some leaves
Build a retirement community
Get along you punks you ain’t welcome here
Your heathen ways and greasy hair
The jobs all left by 83
Now it’s a retirement community

Grandpa why you talk so mean? Why deny what might have been?
Build a tower to view scene of our retirement community

All them Buicks and Oldsmobiles
Bluehairs slow behind the wheel
Blue lights stop, they want to see
My AARP ID

Grandpa don’t let em take me away I’ll give up my wicked ways
Can feel the vines creeping up on me, this retirement community

The factory’s closed and the bars did too
Nothing left to look forward to
Lots of people depending on me
In this retirement community

Mama Mama what’s your boy to do
Can’t find a job and my girlfriend’s due
Changing bedpans getting O.L.D.
In this retirement community

Mama Mama what’s your boy to do
I ain’t got the aptitude
To get into the University

Point my headlights any old way
As fast as the jobs all fly away
My taillights be the last you see of me
In this retirement community

P. Hood - August 12, 2003 (Vancouver BC.) / November 29, 2006 (My new office, Athens GA)

THE THANKSGIVING FILTER

Grandmother’s wheelchair is sitting in the corner
We all sure love her, but the little ones avoid her
Cause she’s gray-haired and wrinkled and her burden looks heavy
Ninety years of survival can look awful scary

Papa’s building something and has since history
But what he’s building is still a mystery
It’s big and it’s twisting and shaped convoluted
It don’t have a function but you better salute it
And it will never be finished but I guess that’s the point
It just gives him a filter and psychological ointment
He woke up real early but he’s late for his appointment
And I sure wish that I had smoked me a joint

It’s Thanksgiving and Jesus, I’m thankful
For abundance and bounty and a big tall stiff drinkful
And the love of your mother and the love of mine too
Thanksgiving’s almost over and Christmas is soon

Mama is trying to live in the present
Don’t let him have a heart attack before I pay off the presents
Granddaddy’s gone but she still feels his presence
He tried to call but he didn’t leave a message

It’s Thanksgiving and Jesus I’m thankful
For abundance and bounty and a big tall stiff drinkful
And the love of your mother and the love of mine too
Thanksgiving’s almost over and Christmas is soon

So put the food on the table and Papa says a blessing
They’re cutting up some turkey and gobbling some dressing
My Aunt’s praising Cheney and my niece loves Obama
My uncle came to dinner wearing his pajamas
Thank God for the filter that enables me some distance
From the screaming and crying and the needs of assistance
You wonder why I drink and curse the holidays
Blessed be my family from 300 miles away

It’s Thanksgiving and Jesus I’m thankful…

Patterson Hood – November 27 2006 (office in kitchen, Athens GA)

BREAKING NEWS

Tom and Katie are getting married in Italy
I’m so excited, my life is so complete
Pictures of the little monster
I really hope like hell I get to see
The castle and the happy nuptials
I bet the bride is looking awful foxy
Putting their business in recouptuals
Thank heaven for the paparazzi

Oh shit, OJ’s at it again
Coming to an arena near you
He’s gonna talk about the grisly murder
To entertain the living hell out of you
Maybe we can promote it as a double
With Michael Jackson or Dr. Phil
And Oprah and that guy with the book
Of his life of rehab, booze and pills

Holy shit! There goes another Republican
Having sex with little boys and crystal meth
Never mind that our country’s in a quagmire
Nobody wants to hear about that yet
But if some Senator or preacher
Has an urge that he’s not supposed to scratch
It’s gonna be a headline from coast to shining coast
And all of us will tune it in to watch

Give Rush all the Oxy-Cotin
And Viagra that it takes to do the job
Send him off to Thailand with that nut-case
Who didn’t kill that girl in Colorado
And Bush needs another trillion dollars
To pay his friends to clean up all the mess
That was made while the media wasn’t looking
They were telling Michael Moore how to dress

Every time the terror warning changes color
I can feel my bank account turn more green
Some Guardsman’s on his third tour of duty
Let’s send Kerry out to clean up the latrine
And now that he’s through inventing the internet
Al Gore’s trying to save the boys and girls
I don’t know if what he’s saying is full of bullshit
But I believe it’s getting hotter in the world

I know this ain’t the time for innuendo
Or ducking cause the shit’s hitting the fan
They’re lined around the block for Nintendo
And Elmo’s got a brand new marketing plan
And public schools are stuffing kids with pizza
And growth hormones in milk sure is great
Put em some Ritalin at seven
They’ll be hitting puberty before they’re eight

And Johnny can’t read or count to twenty
But he can hack the Pentagon before he’s ten
He can name you everyone who’s killing Kenny
And recite you all the words to Eminem
So forgive me if I’m seeming grumpy
At the shit that they’re putting on my bun
It’s always best to laugh when you are terrified
Breaking News can be a lot of fun

November 18, 2006 – My Desk in the Kitchen at Home