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letra de brainerd road/king fish blues - roger alan wade

we were suicide pirates on asphalt seas
we burned that quarter mile in nine-point-three
drivin’ bored-out stallions armored in chrome
it was winner take all and loser walk home
sometimes it got so hot them pink slips glowed
down on brainerd road
oh down on brainerd road

parked them cars when we got done racin’
cranked up that all night rock ‘n roll station
we’d fly with the only jet in the air
’til will hortz would come and he’d run us home
down on brainerd road
oh down on brainerd road

now it’s glory glory hallelujah and i just
i hope i don’t explode
i got me a four-fifty-four both feet flat on the floor
just roarin’, still roarin’ down brainerd road

late one night my baby called
and she said, “we gotta talk” and that said it all
said, “meet me at the san ann by the quarter mile straight
and i’ll be there as soon as i can slip away”
well i waited ’til daybreak and she never showed
down on brainerd road
oh down sweet brainerd road

so i went knockin’ at her daddy’s door
he said, “you won the battle, boy i won the war”
i said “where is she mister,” he said “baltimore
we burned down that clinic on vance road, we don’t do that here no more”
i jumped in that camero and just stuck it to the floor and went roarin’
down brainerd road
oh roarin’ down brainerd road

now it’s glory glory hallelujah and i just
i hope i don’t explode
i got me a four-fifty-four both feet flat on the floor
just roarin’, still roarin’ down brainerd road

these days i sit on the porch at my brother’s house
and watch the sun set
my niece and my nephew’s playin’ in the yard
and i’m suckin’ on a cigarette
my sister-in-law’s in yonder foldin’ laundry
and lookin’ at wheel-of-fortune with my brother
i can hear them through that storm door goin’ back and forth
about one thing or another
she waits tables while the kids are at school
and he runs a wholesale route
between her tips and his commissions
after taxes are taken out
they keep a roof over their head and they keep food on the table, and they just somehow just keep getting’ by
waitin’ on that day to come where they scr-pe up enough crumbs, just to get a little piece of that pie

so you just kiss my -ss, uncle sam
and you kiss my brother’s -ss too
god bless america, but the h-ll with you
you done stole us blind and you sold us out to a circle of a chosen few
and i see you on that poster pointin’ your trigger finger at my grandson
i’m pointin’ my middle one back at you
’cause this land ain’t your land, this land’s our land
from california and the new york island
and the redwood forest and the gulf stream water
oh this land was made for me and you

- roger alan wade

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