LYRICS TO BAJA LOUISIANA:
All songs written by and copyright Douglas Greer.
BACK IN MY SKIN AGAIN
So it begins; we’re drinking absinthe and smoking Cubans. Rollin’ up in a Cadillac, Jimmy Carter sticker on the back. I’m catching up with Johnny Singo; we’re hitting Ginnie’s for some Chicken Shit and Tittie Bingo. Lone Star in a can, laughing at the cigarette ban. I’m dipping my toe back in; I’m back in my skin again.
Slamming dominoes like sailors with some juiced-up cougars in a FEMA trailer that was stolen. They bought it online; we had a hell of a time. We catch a taxi to the Saxon to see Carolyn Wonderland; hitting liquor from a coffee can. Refusing to say when. I’m dipping my toe back in; I’m back in my skin again. I’m dipping my toe back in; I’m back in my skin again.
We’re on a helluva run, hitting trees at the Horseshoe with our guns. I’m breathing a Falstaff mixed with rum, telling time by the sun. We bring in bottles of Jack Daniel’s, black label, throw away the top. Set the tone and never stop ‘til we get to the bottom bin. I’m dipping my toe back in; I’m back in my skin again.
Down at the Poodle Dog, son, making new friends and having fun. Twenty dollars for a lap dance and a shot; something cold and something hot. Talking in riddles as soon as we can; we’re making wives think of other men back at the trailer where the late night begins and objectivity ends. I’m dipping my toe back in; I’m back in my skin again.
TAKE MY NAME OFF YOUR FACEBOOK PAGE
You came home one night and fired me as your husband in the family. No warning shot, no rotgut to kill the pain; I didn’t know how not to go insane. You hadn’t been in love with me for three long years, you told me. You’ve got another flame you’ve gotta fan, so Mrs. Greer while you’re hugging on your new best man, I need a little help on a little something if you can.
Take my name off your Facebook page; you don’t seem to need it anyway. You tell the world about your new boyfriend before our marriage has a chance to end. You’ve got your new body and your new career; why the hell you gotta go by Greer? You kicked me out, girl, let’s disengage. Take my name off your Facebook page.
You told me you think I’d better leave, come tomorrow, got no time to grieve. Had all this shit planned out from A to Z with your lawyers and your family. You hadn’t been in love with me for three long years, you told me. You’ve got another flame you’ve gotta fan, so Mrs. Greer while you’re hugging on your new best man, I need a little help on a little something if you can.
Take my name off your Facebook page; you don’t seem to need it anyway. You tell the world about your new boyfriend before our marriage has a chance to end. You’ve got your new body and your new career; why the hell you gotta go by Greer? You kicked me out, girl, let’s disengage. Take my name off your Facebook page.
OUT OF MY MIND
Out of my mind; girl, you’ve got me crazy. I’m out of my mind. Living alone in a lie in your new world order; I’m wasting my time, like out on a lawn and searching for four-leaf clovers that I’ll never find. Stay with me, and we’ll leave the hurt behind; stay with me, and I’ll read between your lines.
You’ll never see if our love could last in time. You’ve got me wandering, baby; got me wondering and… Out of my mind; girl, you’ve got me crazy. I’m out of my mind, since you left me baby; I’m out of my mind.
We’ve seen our way through harder things, but now you leave me. You know we’ve been through harder things.
Out on the road when it hurts me to know that I can’t hold your body to mine, I feel like a rusted soul counting on black rainbows that I’ll never climb. Stay with me, and we’ll leave the hurt behind; stay with me, and I’ll read between your lines.
You’ll never see if our love could last in time. You’ve got me wandering, baby; got me wondering and… Out of my mind; girl, you’ve got me crazy. I’m out of my mind, since you left me baby; I’m out of my mind.
WITCHES
Smoking a number with some witches, behind the Continental Club on Tuesday at a Toni Price show. We said a prayer for my good fortune, we cursed all my old rivals, and they told me what I needed to know. About how life had been an empty run for a dollar for the person I was trying to be. In a broken plastic mirror, it’s easier to see what I’ve been doing to me.
We took the party down to Guero’s; the moon lit up South Austin through our table by a fire in the cold. It’s where we murdered some burritos, drank our weight in Cuervo, then they told me what my future would hold. They said it smelled a lot like music, and felt a bit like Texas; I’d trade in my suit for a melody. They saw future fallen angels, lining up to see, what I’ve been doing to me.
They said it smelled a lot like music, and felt a bit like Texas; I’d trade in my suit for a melody. They saw future fallen angels, lining up to see, what I’ve been doing to me. What I’ve been doing to me…
PORT ACRES
Nineteen twenties bootleggers bought some pastures with swamp to roam; started a town, called it Port Acres, and Port Acres would be our home. Marshland Cajuns and Creoles and Mexicans and rednecks from up the river came down, to get some work at the oil refineries and chemical plants that had been sprouting around.
The companies sponsored our recreation, paid on our mortgages and cars. We were living our lives ‘til the cancer found us; in Port Acres, seeing stars.
Rodair Dance Hall, Knights of Columbus, fais do do every Saturday night. Harry Choates was the Cajun Elvis, crying waltzes under cigarette lights. Marshland Cajuns and Creoles and Mexicans and rednecks from up the river came down; we mixed our cultures and our songs and singers into beautiful French country soul sounds.
Sunday morning, at Grandma Molbert’s playing bourre with Uncle Dan. We’re listening to the Tee Bruce show on the radio with the Cajun bands.
Front yards lit up with black coal lanterns, selling the ‘shine when the sun went down; it would give you some courage on the way to Proctor, looking for women and the other way ‘round. Marshland Cajuns and Creoles and Mexicans and rednecks from up the river came down, to the middle of Baja Louisiana, an American dream in a Big Oil town.
Jackie’s Drive-In, ice cream headache; Eagle Park with an eight-track on. Making time with a Catholic bunny; hitting the Rocket to a Creedence song.
They looked down at us, and made fun of us. They wouldn’t let their children love us, but that was life down in Port Acres, and Port Acres is part of me.
MISS RIGHT NOW
She’s not high society; she don’t know what it means, but she holds the title of burned-out barroom beauty queen. Tonight he’ll see exactly what the fuss is all about, because she’s not Mrs. Right; she’s just Miss Right Now.
She never was good looking, but she looks good in the dark. Tonight he’s just a sinner, swinging down in her trailer park. She’ll help him think of something so his woman won’t find out, because she’s not Mrs. Right; she’s just Miss Right Now.
She knows she’ll never be a long-term thing; no honeymoon and no wedding ring. So when the waitress takes last call, the whiskey walks her out because she’s not Mrs. Right; she’s just Miss Right Now.
With the right kind of attitude she won’t seem so bad, because right now he’s in the mood for what he’s never had.
When the night is over and he goes home to family, she’ll be just another honky-tonkin’ memory. She knows just exactly what they say she’s all about, because she’s not Mrs. Right; she’s just Miss Right Now. No, she’s not Mrs. Right; she’s just Miss Right Now… Miss Right Now.
CALL ME ON IT
It don’t count unless you call me on it; it don’t count unless you call me on it.
Trying to get the most out of my last Lucky Strike; got a full moon pulling at me hard tonight. Can a thousand-song singer from the joints run a family? We’ll just have to wait and see.
I’m trying to remain what you want me to be. You say, “You better get yourself together, son, start living right and holy,” but I’m starting on a feeling that’s following me. You know; you see.
It don’t count unless you call me on it; it don’t count unless you call me on it. It don’t count unless you call me on it.
My halo’s sitting heavy on my flat-top tonight, and my blue jeans’ doing things I know ain’t right. This tramp stamp staring me in the face, it agrees. It’s already got me on my knees.
I’m trying to remain what you want me to be. You say, “You better get yourself together, son, start living right and holy,” but I’m starting on feeling that’s following me. You know; you see.
It don’t count unless you call me on it; it don’t count unless you call me on it. It don’t count unless you call me on it.
I’m trying to remain what you want me to be. You say, “You better get yourself together, son, start living right and holy,” but I’m starting on feeling that’s following me. You know; you see.
It don’t count unless you call me on it; it don’t count unless you call me on it. It don’t count unless you call me on it; so call me on it…
SAVING GRACE
A violet I placed in her wicked, matted frame; she was so ashamed of what she became. “How did you get here; what did they see?” I said I was family; she touched my hand and said I am. “So how are you today? Do you leave yourself on that stage when you walk away?” I said I do. “Well, I’m proud of you.”
I’m saving Grace; I’m saving Grace.
Outside are people who will be seen on the TV screen, they want you to be obscene; they want you to be a memory. When I told the folks outside it’s a shame that some people never die, I think they took it personally. So how could you conceive that you could walk outside the world of reality? The medicine men cannot be believed.
Na na na na, na na na; Na na na, na na na.
So tell the men outside in their cotton whites, their position I can see, but I won’t leave, ‘cause I’m saving Grace, from what she has all over her face. From the pain that lives inside of the place her heart has taken to… I’m saving Grace; I’m saving Grace.
Her hollowed-out eyes I took into her memories. I wanted her to see what she used to be, ‘cause you know you can’t run away and hide and think you’ll find your lost dignity and pride, like she wanted to believe. But with a love that blossoms deep, and grows inside and comes alive and never dies, you can conquer all in time.
Na na na na, na na na; Na na na, na na na.
So tell the men outside in their cotton whites, their position I can see, but I won’t leave, ‘cause I’m saving Grace, from what she has all over her face. From the pain that lives inside of the place her heart has taken to… I’m saving Grace; I’m saving Grace.
CHRISTMAS IN THE TRAVIS COUNTY JAIL
I let my wife and kids down, ‘cause I thought pride was worth fighting for. I was wrong and here I sit, on Christmas, in the Travis County Jail. Here on Christmas, in the Travis County Jail.
Well, I deserve to be here, because I did the shit they said I did. I ain’t proud of it, but there it is, up here on Christmas, in the Travis County Jail. Here on Christmas in the Travis County Jail.
Merry Christmas from the Travis County Jail. Merry Christmas from the Travis County Jail.
I see I opened your head, ‘cause I meant what I said, I still don’t know what you did in my bed. But Merry Christmas, friend, good to see you again, just too bad we’re both stuck in the Travis County Jail.
On Christmas, in the Travis County Jail, here on Christmas, in the Travis County Jail. Merry Christmas from the Travis County Jail. Merry Christmas from the Travis County Jail.
LET’S SIT DOWN
“Let’s sit down,” that’s what she said, and those words of hers keep running through my head. “We have to talk about some things.” I knew what they were as soon as she took off her wedding ring.
Crying and denying in a motel on the mend, I always saw us turning this around. I thought we were forever, but I saw forever end, when she said, ”Let’s sit down.”
She said, “I don’t love you anymore, and my heart don’t sing when you walk through that door, so could you leave, and don’t come back again, and could you hurry, there’s a party that I’m throwing for my friends.”
Crying and denying in a motel on the mend, I always saw us turning this around. I thought we were forever, but I saw forever end, when she said, ”Let’s sit down.”
Crying and denying in a motel on the mend, I always saw us turning this around. I thought we were forever, but I saw forever end, when she said, ”Let’s sit down.”
DEAD UNICORNS
Met a little girl, vowed to make her mine. Courted her around town; had her hang on every line. She got all into me, said come around my way. Got her address, Google mapped it, then I hit her house one day.
Saw a tiny little army of figurines, Dungeons and Dragons, Star Wars action scenes, ceramic horses, and toadies, and teddy bears, her nooks and crannies all had something living there.
Dead unicorns, rainbows with thorns, all your little princess dolls had horns, that’s how I came to see it in my head. We could be friends, but I don’t want to see you again…
Then I met a different girl, who lived a different way, took me out to art galleries, we had museum days. Saw all the foreign films, drank café au lait, started thinking she’s the right one, then I hit her house one day.
Saw a tiny little army of figurines, Dungeons and Dragons, Star Wars action scenes, ceramic horses, and toadies, and teddy bears, her nooks and crannies all had something living there.
Dead unicorns, rainbows with thorns, all your little princess dolls had horns, that’s how I came to see it in my head. We could be friends, but I don’t want to see you again. We could be friends, but I don’t want to see you again…