Get all 10 Ross W Berman IV releases available on Bandcamp.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of VEILED PROPHETS, Beyond Caring, Been On The Job Too Long, Where The Light Don't Reach, The Only Answer, This City, Keeping Kayfabe Blues, DIY I: White Nonsense, and 2 more.
1. |
There Is A 9/11 Everyday
02:36
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There is a 9/11 everyday
There is a 9/11 everyday
Nearly half a million dead
Cant get that number out of my head
There is a 9/11 everyday
When I was growing up
One 9/11 was bad enough
That we were told we never would forget
They said the whole world has to change
They turned it into a shooting range
We’ll kill the bad guys cause we’re heaven sent
Now there's a 9/11 everyday
There is a 9/11 everyday
Thousands dying every day
The bars are open anyway
There is a 9/11 everyday
If you spend enough time alone
And keep one eye on your phone
Everyday you’ll watch another man die
But we’ve got legal weed
And any pills that you might need
The best way to forget is to get high
That there's a 9/11 everyday
There is a 9/11 everyday
Everyday we’re traumatized
So we stay anesthetized
There is a 9/11 everyday
Back before Manhattan shook
‘fore columbine and sandy hook
There was a 9/11 everyday
From the pogrom to the plague
From the cradle to the grave
There is a 9/11 everyday
There is a 9/11 everyday
There is a 9/11 everyday
it’s just best not to fret
My advice is to forget
That there’s a 9/11 everyday
There's thousands dying everyday
The malls are open in LA
There is a 9/11 everyday
credits
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2. |
Jeff Bezos
03:04
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3. |
In The Way
03:23
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4. |
Trading Bell
04:19
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5. |
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6. |
Goin' Down South
02:40
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7. |
While We Play Pretend
02:52
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8. |
Caroline Calloway
03:46
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9. |
The Street Where We Live
03:29
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10. |
Adderall
03:28
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11. |
The Pitbulls
03:17
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12. |
Inside The Quarantine
05:13
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13. |
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The eggs are on the skillet
The Messenger's been stoned
He's bleeding in the alleyway
'Til his manager says "go home"
Clarinet & Banjo,
they finally roll that joint
They pass it off to the Russian Bear
Who then forgets his point
It was something about romance
and the nature of mankind
But the Russian Bear ain't made a whole lotta sense
Since Joe Rogan blew his mind
I pass the joint to The Messenger
and he says "No thanks, my friend"
So I pass it back to the Russian Bear
and the whole damn thing starts again
And the karaoke marathon
continues deep inside
No one feels like singing much
With the alleyway open wide
There's a hotel room up on State Street
Where The Tourist just don't know
You can go a thousand miles from home
But you'll bring all your troubles in tow
Piccolo & Violin,
they melt through the lobby sky
They bleed & lead The Tourist
to some sentimental dive
It's made out of mahogany
and everyone knows your name
The Tourist bought himself a bottle of whiskey
and between you and me, it didn't last the day
The city rises above him
The puppet trolley plays
The Tabbey Cat asked for a dollar
But The Tourist just shrugged
and said "it's getting late."
And the neon's burning brightly
But no one wants the light
Why be flies led to a flame
when the alleyway's open wide
Somewhere deep in Uptown
underneath the Lawrence stop
Satine will give you anything
that a strapping young man might ever want
She's never made any profit
She's never asked for a dime
She fills herself with self-hatred & bile
when she needs to kill the time
and her friends they never judge her
that's not what friends are for
Plus they can always trust she'll get blind stinking drunk
and scream "Oh god I'm such a whore!"
When she's alone in her bedroom
The music still makes her cry
She hears it just like you or me
By the alleyway open wide
Well step right up my friends, its a penny for The Messenger
it's a dime for The Tourist
and if you want sweet Satine my friends
just tell her you're some kind of purist
Tell her that you listen to vinyl
and that you'll never touch the skag
and if she asks how big you are
just tell her that "she'll gag"
There's not much left to say anymore
about Sweet Home Chicago
The alleyways have answers to questions
I never wanted to know
There ain't no John Holmes anymore
There ain't no Betty Page
It's where everyone's a pornstar
and the avenue's a stage
And the neon's burning brightly
but no one wants the light
Why be flies led to a flame
when the alleyway's open wide
It's a million miles anywhere
It's a million miles back home
You can build yourself your own Xanadu
your own stately pleasure dome
But when it all comes crashing down
and the centre cannot hold
You'll miss the days you were young & dumb
and wild and free and bold
You drew a line right in the sand
and put me on the otherside
I'll meet you where the light don't reach
by the alleyway open wide
credits
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Ross W Berman IV Chicago, Illinois
Chicago-based-wrestling journalist-musician-playwright-raconteur
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