Do not go where the path may lead, go where there is no path and leave a trail.

Ralph Waldo Emmerson

Sunday

Merry Christmas Nashville - a New Carol

It's Christmas time. I'm outta kind.
I'm outta kindness too.
Santa fill your sack with Beam and Jack
if you come down my chimney flu.

The stove's got a mouse. I can't leave the house
without a rooster peckin' at my shoe.
Can't walk down the street without attractin' police.
The only lights I got are blue.

I think there's demons in the tub, no matter how I scrub.
Someone fell down the stairs.
It's kinda hellacious. I'm outta patience.
I'm growin' new white hairs.

It ain't easy bein' Country in Nashville Tennessee.
They call it Music City but that ain't music to me.
Bring your songs and yourself. It's somethin' else;
the hip place to live and play.
Keep in mind most of the folks you'll find
are from New York or L.A.

My diagnosis? Borderline psychosis.
My cat thinks he's David Allen Coe.
I'm drinkin' well water. Don't think I oughta.
Smokin' my last one in the snow.

I've had nothin' to eat but biscuits for a week.
I'm boilin' my coffee twice;
empty bottles of whiskey on my Christmas tree,
Country comes at a price.

I was wearin' Chanel and Manuel;
was in a mansion on a hill,
till I had words with a man from Curb,
'bout what kind of Country's real.

And now I'm real Country in Nashville Tennessee.
The call it Music City but that ain't music to me.
Come on and write some songs. You'll probably get along.
It's really up to you.
If you think you'll have a ball bein' all Outlaw,
just remember this song's true. 

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