At 99¢, There's No Way You Can Lose

Or: 

What Do I Need to Do to Get This Song on Your iPod TODAY?

(Lemme hit you with some heavy sales copy. It's a hard sell, and you're locked in the room until you agree.)

I remember reading a story years ago about the rhythm guitarist for an American band who bought a mansion based off his royalties from a single song-writing credit. It was a good song; a popular song. That's the American dream, isn't it? (Or one of them, anyway. The other one involves working real hard, scraping and clawing your way from mailroom clerk to CEO in 50 years, but I don't have the time or the patience for that route.) And while most musicians today will tell you that you can't possibly make a living from music anymore, I will, with your help, defy those naysayers. I intend to live that dream today, but I probably won't buy a mansion. I'll just get my roof replaced and maybe install a new toilet in the master bath. And I'm going to do it in 99¢ increments. (Actually 60 to 70¢ increments after CDBaby takes their cut.)

What is 99¢ to you? You give 99¢ to the barista at Starbucks because she got your coffee right. You give 99¢ per bag (even though the going rate is $2) to the guy at the airport curb who schlepped your bags the few yards you were too lazy to walk. You give 99¢ to the hotdog vendor outside The Home Depot because you saw the tip jar and felt guilty walking away without adding to it. You give 99¢ to your state's lottery every week. And what do you have to show for any of those 99¢ donations? NOTHING! I give you a song that will last forever in your iPod. I give you Music. I give you Eternity!

The song I'm selling, "Where's My Jetpack?" was described by the first person who bought it, a gentleman from Edmonton, Alberta, as, "An anthem for a generation." He went on to say, "It's been stuck in my head for weeks! I think this is a truly great tune. You really have something here. The world needs to have this song!" (I am not lying, and I do not know this generous, if delusional man, but it was his unexpected encouragement that prompted me to upload the song.) Now, can you afford to be left out on an anthem? I don't want to see that happen to you, and neither do your parents. Or your children. Don't let  them down. As the man said, The World needs to have this song. That giant demographic includes you, my friend. And your parents. And your children. Think of the children.

How many blogs do you read that have their own theme song? Very few, I'm sure. That alone is worth a 99¢ tip! So, I'll tell ya what I'll do! I'll let you have the song after you tip me 99¢!

And it really doesn't matter if you hate the song. What percentage of the music on your iPod do you hate? Maybe 30%? I have songs on my iPod I will NEVER listen to. What's one more? And what do you expect for 99¢ anyway? So what if it's not your favorite genre or style? Expand your palate! Broaden your horizons!

Think of it this way: You're at Dollar Night at your favorite sushi place. You've tried all sorts of exotic pieces and then you say to your companions, "Let's try the sea urchin! It's only $1!" And so you try it and resolve to never, ever eat sea urchin again. You're only out $1 and you learned a valuable lesson about sea urchin. And if you happen to be among the few hundred people worldwide who like sea urchin, is the sushi place going to let you order more of it without paying? That's the difference between me and your sushi place. If you like this song, you get to keep listening to it FOREVER! FOR FREE! This bargain is the biggest no-brainer in the history of earth.

So, what I need you to do right now is make yourself one of the many, many millions who are this very minute going to iTunes to buy the song I'm selling. Once you've done that, and this is KEY - make sure EVERYONE YOU KNOW on Twitter and Facebook buys it, too. And yes, even that gross guy you barely remember from middle school whose friend request you regret accepting because he keeps sending you creepy private messages. Once this chain spans the globe, I expect messages on my Facebook saying, "Dude, I know you don't remember me, but you REALLY NEED TO BUY THIS SONG ON iTUNES."

Not an iTunes user? You can buy it directly from CDBaby.

(And I'd prefer not to hear from the audiophiles about the production quality. Considering I used an old Kay guitar plugged into an aging HP, some drum programming and a Radio Shack headset microphone, I think it passes. Remember, it's only 99¢ you're about to spend. Don't be a sound snob.)

I'd like to tell you that a certain percentage of your 99¢ will go toward some do-gooder program that provides mosquito nets while improving the literacy rate among transgendered baby seals in the rain forest, but it won't. It's all mine after iTunes and CDBaby take their cut. I am counting on you to make me disgustingly rich from a song that doesn't deserve the attention it's about to get. This happens all the time. Bieber, anyone? OK, Bobby McFarrin?

As with most music, it sounds better if you're listening to it loud while drinking an adult beverage. Or perhaps smoking something that might be legal in some states as long as you call it "medicine."

And if you're still too stingy with your measly little dollar, go here and steal the song for free. You punkass pirate bastard.

And then watch the video.

Leave A Little Mystery

The summer weather reminded me of this old post from about three years ago. I get this song stuck in my head a little every summer, which is kind of cool since no one knows the tune but me.

Riverbend Dead End - 7/17/07 - 2:15 PM

You Do The Math

From the album Telegraph Canyon

Every afternoon at about this time
for a month
it’s been raining
The afternoon scattered shower
the kind that lasts until the end of rush hour
It’s like something's saying
take it easy
It’s like someone saying
take it slow

The straight and narrow’s got a couple twists
The straight and narrow bends just a little
The cloud ceiling’s pretty high
Is that some water in your eye?
What chance we’re slippin' from the path?
The odds are slim – you do the math

Every evening at about this time
for a month
the sun shines
3-D clouds under a crystal blue dome
No matter where you are you’re home
It’s like something's saying
take it easy
It’s like someone saying
take it slow

The straight and narrow’s got a couple twists
The straight and narrow bends just a little
The cloud ceiling’s pretty high
You got some water in your eye
What chance we’re slippin’ off the path?
The odds are slim – you do the math

The Copywriter's Song

It could be a rap, I suppose. Feel free. As for now, it's just words. Posted this before, so if you've seen it, please be patient and allow the new kids time to catch up.

Sell to win – there is no sin
Grab ‘em by the heart – that’s the start
Grab ‘em by the ears - prey on their fears
Get into their soul - get a hold

You’re fat, you’re ugly, you’re nowhere near sexy
You’re old, you’re dying, you’re sick inside
You’re a loser, you’re bald, you’re lacking something real
and you’re just plain stupid if you turn down this deal

Hear that cha-ching? – the register rings
Quota was made – we play in the shade
Palms are greased – space is leased
The clients sing – sales is the thing

You’re dumb, you’re lacking, your husband doesn’t love you
You’re slow, you’re dated, you’re a sad excuse
You’re worthless, uncool, can’t you recognize what’s real?
We thought you were smarter when we offered this deal

Fine print is small – don’t read it all
It says what it must – as if you can’t trust
Would I lie to you? Would I tell you untrue?
If I can get in – give it just the right spin
I sell apples to Eve – and make her believe

that she’s a failure, a victim, she needs her eyes opened
Her man’s a pansy, substandard, and lacking in size
She’s wrinkled, small-breasted, bad lover, mother, wife
until she buys this thing to revolutionize her life

You’re a mark, a pigeon, a sucker, easy target
You’re insecure, unsure and afraid of the truth
You’re a dummy, firm believer, an always-open wallet
You’d sell your body, your soul, or whatever you call it

At the Morrissey Songwriting Clinic

(Click for large.)

My Ideal Business Card

One of my first friends in the "social media space" was Fred Leo, known to Twitter users as @everysandwich. Fred asked me to do a short VO for him last week. Since it was raining today and any outdoor plans got scrubbed, I sat down and knocked it out. It was fun and reminded me I need to get back to that kind of work one of these days. But I also need to write more songs. And get a giant trailer full of cool lawn gear and do some anonymous guerrilla landscaping. Maybe get back into the podcasting game. And mass produce a cheap land paddle. And sell a novel. And write another one. And other stuff.

One of these days.

"Yeah. No. Alright. You Alright?"

Saw a tweet this morning from @FishNChimps that read:

"No arguments. 24 season finale was shite."

Could not agree more, even though Monday nights are now a little boring without that show to mock.

And now, a little rhyme in honor of what keeps that show even semi-watchable anymore, the dastardly Tony Almeida.


Crackin' skulls and snappin' necks
Suffocatin' friends, survivin' car wrecks
In twenty-four hours, he don't tire
Got blown up and walked out the fire
Workin' undercover ten layers deep
A soulless soldier don't need no sleep

You wish you was Tony Almeida
Darker than the darkest Darth Vader
Little Jack Bauer can't touch his skills
Cold blooded killer lost track of his kills

Talks in a whisper out the side of his lip
When you think you got him, he give you the slip
Turn around and he's right behind you
A gun at your head, here to remind you

You'll never be Tony Almeida
A secret shadow and a dark crusader
Hit him with a flamethrower, he don't care
He don't burn, you won't singe his hair

The show's gettin' crazy, they all should die
Garafolo - all the punks at the FBI
Sick of Agent Walker and that stupid brat Kim
Tony take 'em down, it don't matter to him

FOX, make a show called "Tony Almeida"
'Bout a crazy patriot, or maybe a traitor
You never know, and that's his game
The cop and the crook are one in the same



And here's a little something I found on YouTube showcasing the astonishing acting ability and amazing range of Carlos Bernard, the guy who plays Tony Almeida.

Nope - Ain't Seen No Jetpacks Yet

In the last couple of days, I've had friends send me messages via Facebook, Twitter and email regarding this story from The Wall Street Journal. It's very similar to a story done in July of last year by The New York Times—and it's the same old story, "Everyone wants a jetpack - but jetpacks suck really bad right now."

Because of the title of this blog, I've been quoted in a book about Jetpacks.

There's another book about Jetpacks whose title is the same as this blog. (I was first.)

And there will also always be crappy jetpack announcements from starry-eyed inventors. But none of the jetpacks fly very far for very long, they're usually tethered, and they're usually priced at about $250,000.

When I was in 2nd grade, I checked out a tattered old book from the Fort Lewis, Washington Elementary School Library called Skyjets for Fliers of Tomorrow. It told the tale of two kids who got mail-order flight suits and went flying around their town, visited their grandma and were home in time for dinner. (Images on this post from that book.) I guess that book started me wishing I could fly, but it's really an ancient and universal dream - personal flight. And it hasn't happened yet. Not to any satisfactory degree, anyway. I mean, who wants to fly only over a lake tethered to a giant hose sucking water from the lake?


The only way I will stop asking the question “Where’s My Jetpack?” is when jetpacks are affordable to common clowns like you and me and will safely convey us to and from our places of employment or the grocery store. It would also be nice if they didn’t sound like F-18s at full throttle and could fly for longer than a couple minutes on a tank of fuel. Another real benefit would be if they were available at Wal-Mart. I want them easy enough to operate that my Mom could handle one.

But more than that, the question “Where’s My Jetpack?” is at its heart a joke. The jetpack is simply a symbol of all the other things that were supposed to be here by now, promised to us by the advertisers, by Disney, by the government and all the other dreamers. As it says over in the sidebar under “Bascially...”: “The future is now, and we’re still waiting.”

It's all explained in the lyrics to this blog's theme song.

UPDATE: And Hanna points out in the comments that Quaker just launched - haha - get it? "launched" - sorry - a campaign featuring a Jimmy Fallon lookalike wearing a Quaker Oats jetpack.

Stuffed Shirt

I Don't Understand World Trade

This shirt has an MSRP of $40. I got it for $7. While I feel good about finding a durable all-cotton shirt at that price, I can't help but feel someone is getting screwed in the deal. Is it the 90% female labor force in Bangladesh that made it and then carefully packaged it with all this fancy trash? It can't be the shipper who got it here on a slow boat with a skeleton crew. Is it Izod, a company with enough money to secure naming rights on an arena in New Jersey? Is it the retailer, marking this down to make room for more? Someone is losing money here and I need a course in business economics.

click for ridiculous size

Whatever. What do I care? Bangladesh's #1 crop is cotton, their #1 export is garments and the US is their #1 customer. Everybody's happy.

And the merchants of the earth will weep
when no one’s buying their cargo anymore

Cargoes of gold, silver, precious stones and pearls
Fine linen, purple, silk, and scarlet cloth
PC, PDA, HDTV
and everything down at the Dollar Store

Yeah.

This Is What It's Like

My co-workers are leaving early with well-wishes for a Happy Thanksgiving. My blogger friends post the same nice tidings. My Twitter feed is full of turkey talk and expressions of thanks, while we all look forward to a weekend of football and food. (Go Gators.)

Our lives often suck, but they could be worse.

And so, from the bottom of the pan of candied yams, where the sticky-sweet goo of brown sugar and marshmallows pool, I give you this syrupy, thankful lyric.

(There is no music yet, except in my head, so you're free to set these verses in your mind to whatever genre/beat pleases you.)

This Is What It's Like

From the forthcoming project Time's New Romans

What’s that shine in your eye?
yeah, you’re such a good spy
Have you been getting high?
I like the way you move
Slinky—with a groove
Not a thing you need to prove

So if the world stopped now
has it been a good ride?
Could you get off happy?
Did you have a good time?
And if it all ends tonight
would you die with regret?
Was there something you wanted?
Was there something unmet?

Well I’m glad you’re not let down
and I’m glad you can see
that this is what it’s like

to be happy

And if the money don’t show
and the car won’t go
and the dream is moving slow
Take a walk ‘round the block
Stop and take stock
Just listen—try not to talk

And you know it makes sense
to be at home in the stream
not looking past the trees
but living the dream
And when you’re going with the current
you expect to get wet
Keep your head above water
‘cause we’re not there yet

Well I’m glad you’re not let down
and I’m glad you can see
that this is what it’s like
This is what it’s like
This is what it’s like

to be happy

©2008 Radio Free Babylon. All Rights Reserved. For Whatever That's Worth.

More Thanksgiving thoughts over here.

American Tune - My Last Political Post (Maybe)

"American Tune" by Paul Simon. Some nice production work here on this new :60 from the well-funded and well-oiled Obama campaign some dirty PAC working for Obama.

I don't think anyone's ever used this song in an ad before, much less a political ad. It's like this song has been laying dormant for many, many years, waiting for this time. It's a sad song about America. Read the lyrics here. Really pulling out all the stops here: foreclosure and tough times hitting white America, but they still play baseball to make themselves feel better.

Feeling Like You

It's Not All Snark and Smug Scorn at Where's My Jetpack?

This was the scene at an Orange County Public Library on my way home this evening. Voters standing in line in the late afternoon Autumn sun, a kaleidoscope of American colors. I had to pull over and take a few pictures. (And add my two cents worth in verse. Click images for larger.)


From the forthcoming Telegraph Canyon

Feeling Like You

When in the course of human events
it becomes quite evident
that something’s happening
well, that's just fine
Water's well past the floodline

I won’t care and why should you
And besides, what could we do
The shine got dull
That's not a crime
The moment is here and now's the time

Yeah, there’s something in the air
It’s like fall all the time
Crisp, clear, brisk and bright
Sun dancing on the shore in a festival of lights

If we can stand the picked-up pace
Maybe we can find some grace
We know the way
We’ll be on time
and I'll trust you to read the signs

When in sight of things so clear
I know you can’t care to fear
Winds of change
won’t block the sunshine
It's theirs and ours - It's yours and mine

Yeah, there’s something in the air
It’s like autumn all the time
When the world’s 3D and layered deep
Clouds marching for the shoreline like they’re walking in their sleep

Eight Eight Eight

If you turned this day upside down
it would still be the same
And when you look at it sideways
it goes on without end
and what is a game
played between enemies
anyway
but a metaphor for war

The rain outside blows sideways
trash cans are turned upside down
There are things to do again today
that we do without end
And what is a game
played between friends
once again
but a metaphor for harmony

Please celebrate our triumph
Feel free to wince when we fall
and do try to mind your tongues
We love the gold, the spoils of war
and turning worlds upside down
and what is a war fought overseas
to me
just the game we play

Come on Baby, Lawn is Burning

Daylight Savings Time
from the album, Geometry

Who wrote this scene? You know what I mean.
It finally registers and rings.
Dodging knives, rearranging lives.
There were a thousand little things.
Grab a towel. Hear the wind howl.
Tell me, who loves you more?
Rain is gone, baby. (Lawn is too, maybe.)
Let’s say we hit the shore.

Come on, Baby – Lawn is burning – season’s turning.
There’s nothing left but rock
Save daylight - turn back the clock
Jumping off a floating casino on a cruise to Mexico

You don’t want that life. I don’t need that strife.
Blinds drawn on an ocean view.
And we’ll find it, too – what we were born to do.
We’ll go where we please.
We’ll see through the trees.
We’ll shoot at the knees.

I’ll drink your wine. We’ll dine, recline.
You caught the subtle pass.
We took a chance. We left the dance.
Raise a toast. I’ll refill your glass.
Grab a raft and paddle like mad.
No need to pack a case.
We're jumping ship. You bit my lip.
We'll find a quiet cove – a secret place.

Come on, Baby – Lawn is burning – season’s turning.
There’s nothing left but rock.
Save daylight - turn back the clock
Shut the doors on the club where the voices were dubbed

We don’t want that life. Dull as butter knife.
We're gold now, no longer blue.
And we’ll find it too – what we were born to do
We’ll go where we please.
We’ll see through the trees.
We’ll shoot at the knees.

We made the scene. You know what I mean.
We were dying to find a cure.
Who's gonna mock the heavens at half past eleven?
Baby, I ain't never seen you so sure.

Come on, Baby – Lawn is burning – season’s turning.
There's nothing left but rock.
Save daylight
Come on, Baby – Lawn is burning – season’s turning.
Have you had enough talk?
Save daylight - turn back the clock
You know it's twice as nice in our private island paradise

I don’t want that life. You don't need that strife.
We're gonna be made new.
And we’ll find it too – what we were born to do
We’ll go where we please.
We’ll see through the trees.
And we'll shoot at the knees.

It's Only Water

Plenty of people around the world think they’re being real witty when they announce what they think is their very own local saying, “If you don’t like the weather here in [insert locality name], stick around five minutes. It’ll change! Hahahahahaha!”


Everywhere I’ve lived, people complain about the weather. It’s always too hot, too cold, too rainy, too icy, too windy or too humid. Every once in a while, you’ll get that picture perfect postcard day where the temperature is 77°F, (25°C for the rest of the world) fluffy white clouds float lazily over the landscape and everyone agrees that it’s a beautiful day. Those days are rare unless you live in Hawaii.

And in the endless pursuit of that perfect day, we are obsessed with the weather. We have desktop weather apps, the radio stations announce the weather every fifteen minutes, there’s a couple of weather channels, the local news stations compete like pit bulls to be top dog of the local weather scene, promising to save your life in the next tornado, hurricane, flood or Act of God.

Truth is, nobody really knows what the weather’s gonna do. It’s still a guessing game despite the advanced science making predictions. Take what you get and wait it out until that next beautiful day shows up.

We're in the midst of a rainy month in Central Florida.

You Do The Math

From the album Telegraph Canyon

Every afternoon at about this time
for a month
it’s been raining
The afternoon scattered shower
The kind that lasts until the end of rush hour
It’s like someone saying
take it easy
It’s like someone whispered
take it slow

The straight and narrow’s got a couple twists
The straight and narrow bends just a little
The cloud ceiling’s pretty high
You got some water in your eye
What chance we’re slippin’ off the path?
The odds are slim – you do the math

Every evening at about this time
for a month
the sun shines
3D clouds under a crystal blue dome
No matter where you are you’re home
It’s like someone saying
take it easy
It’s like someone whispered
take it slow

The straight and narrow’s got a couple twists
The straight and narrow bends just a little
The cloud ceiling’s pretty high
You got some water in your eye
What chance we’re slippin’ off the path?
The odds are slim – you do the math

A Midsummer Day's Dream

It's summertime and I'm trapped in a cube. My iGoogle theme is now a rotating beach banner. As Captain Kirk might admonish himself, "Must...FOCUS! MUST...main...TAIN!"

Beach Bums

From the album Telegraph Canyon

We can get all sweaty, then sticky saltwater wet
Your hair dryin’ in the sun
Bring a book and a board and some beer in a cooler
We’ll toss a disc and forget

Find a stretch to stretch on — away from the crowd
You look like Jackie-O in those shades
It’s hot enough – why you do that to me
Spin a disc and play it loud

Baby, let’s be surf dogs
Let’s just be water rats
Come on, let’s be beach bums
Wind in our hair
Waves at our backs

I don’t wanna wear socks or shoes anymore
Open toed and open shirt
We’ll eat the catch of the day down at JB’s
Then make our way back to the shore

Loose the bonds, lose the suit — ocean breeze on your skin
Take a dip, you skinny cool girl
It’s dark enough, no one will see
You always love it once you get in

We’ll build a fire — sleep out here tonight
The dog can walk himself
Hear the pounding and the beat on the beach
Back to the shack with the morning light

Baby, let’s be surf dogs
Let’s just be water rats
Come on, let’s be beach bums
Wind in our hair
Waves at our backs

The Beach is a Harsh Mistress

The ocean was angry yesterday, but the waves looked promising, thanks to Bertha off in the Atlantic whipping things up, so we headed out. But we couldn't even get out to the good waves as each wave would knock you back, negating any progress forward you'd just made, while the current dragged us north at a rapid pace. Then we had to pack it in as this storm from the west was bearing down.

Still, the worst day at the beach is better than the best day in a cubicle.


Yeah there’s something in the air
It’s like autumn all the time
When the world’s 3-D and layered deep
Clouds marching for the shoreline like they’re walking in their sleep

How To Write Morrissey Lyrics

...or any emo lyrics, for that matter.

I was headed to the grocery store and heard some random Smiths song on the radio and was marveling at Morrissey's ability to create the most random, non-rhyming lyrics. I'm sure many people read deep meaning into things Morrissey writes that he never intended. He's considered the Godfather of Emo for his supposed depth and nuance.

As I pulled into the parking lot I saw a bunch of Boy Scouts offering a car wash next to the liquor store. I decided to have my car washed , since it was very dirty. And now I will write a Morrissey song based on the experience.
Boy Scout Car Wash

And my car was dirty.
And the Boy Scouts, they were washing cars. By the liquor store.
So I had my car washed.
Now they can go to camp this summer, because I gave them a twenty.

And they made my car shine.
And now my car shines.
And the liquor store. It's a great place to have your car washed.
If your car is dirty.

And my car was dirty. But now it's not anymore.
Because the Boy Scouts washed my car. And I gave them a twenty.
And now they will go to camp this summer. I'm so happy.
So happy for the Boy Scouts. Who washed my car.
By the liquor store.
And now my car's clean. My car's clean. My car's clean.

And they made my car shine.
And now my car shines.
And the liquor store. It's a great place to have your car washed.
If your car is dirty.


Deep, huh?

Sleep Twilight Lyric

Ever get inspired in that moment between wakefulness and sleep? Me too. It's a mystical place. The first stanza of this came to me as I was drifting into a nap after a morning of glassy non-waves at the beach.


I could use a word from you
Something simple, just a clue
A whispered word or two

You know, I thought I made it clear
I can take direction

All those boats up on the shore
I guess I could build a few more
Not even sure what they’re for

But they’re more than they appear
It’s not just a collection

I’ve got a field of dried-up wells
Dug myself halfway to Hell
To the point where I can’t tell

I can’t see and I can’t hear
where to make the connection

Drift away to another land
Forget trying to understand
Nothing’s done and nothing’s planned

I can wait another year
For the next rejection

Did I make too much of nothing at all
Missed the cue and dropped the ball
Ran too fast when told to crawl

It’s your wheel, you can steer
I trust you’ll make the correction

There’s so much you won’t let me say
Saving it for another day
It’s a game I’ve learned to play

You won't let me doubt or fear
Won’t let me raise an objection

Cynical Graffiti

Stereo surround and DVR, a six-foot screen
Send a geek on call for the custom install
And while you’re at it – keep it green

Two sunroofs are better than one in a leased SUV
300 horse (professional driver, closed course)
and the headrests play DVDs

You’re leaving the casino with you’re-not-sure-who
Blame your restless leg meds for those thoughts in your head
Side effects make you gamble and screw

Trade some stocks on the road from your musical phone
Down a vitamin water and text your daughter
She’s on MySpace so she’s never alone

What’s in your wallet? Can you hear me now?
Shift it, rearrange it, you're the agent who can change it
Making sure it’s got plenty of “wow”

Ripples of a Coming Storm

Noisy outside right now, in a very cool way. Nikon-grabbin' time.













Riverbend Dead End - 7/17/07 - 2:15 PM

You Do The Math

From the album Telegraph Canyon

Every afternoon at about this time
for a month
it’s been raining
The afternoon scattered shower
the kind that lasts until the end of rush hour
It’s like someone saying
take it easy
It’s like someone saying
take it slow

The straight and narrow’s got a couple twists
The straight and narrow bends just a little
The cloud ceiling’s pretty high
You got some water in your eye
What chance we’re slippin’ off the path?
The odds are slim – you do the math

Every evening at about this time
for a month
the sun shines
3D clouds under a crystal blue dome
No matter where you are you’re home
It’s like someone saying
take it easy
It’s like someone saying
take it slow

The straight and narrow’s got a couple twists
The straight and narrow bends just a little
The cloud ceiling’s pretty high
You got some water in your eye
What chance we’re slippin’ off the path?
The odds are slim – you do the math