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lyrics

Uncle Sam, you're such a wicked man
pinching pennies turning bricks to sand

Going to your castle, grow your hedges high
grown over windows and just stay inside

Fears now, weapon of choice in your war
on logic and on decent life for sure

We ain't got no right here in the city
beware of the man yeah, when he comes around
they know what you are now in the city
putting you inside an electric cell
moving to the country for some freedom
city life has got me kinda feeling down

Lived in the city all my life
violence chaos strife
all of the ways dreaming
of hunter gatherer days

His eyes they see the sun
and his face feels the breeze

Now on threshold of ultimate demise
on the eve of fire and blackened skies

credits

from All Bets Are Off, released January 30, 2015
Lyrics by Harbury. Sax by Mike Pattow.

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Space Collector Milwaukee, Wisconsin

Rock and Roll, with a tendency for self-deluded space travel. Board the Space Collector and save the human race from ultimate self-destruction. There is still hope.

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