redneckgaijin: (respectable political)
While out and about today I listened to a two CD set of Harry Chapin's 2000th concert I picked up off Amazon. And it triggered the following, which I held onto as much as I could until I got home and could write it down. (The bridge was better in the car, but I couldn't keep it in memory.)

I sent all my wishes to Santa Claus
But he never listened to me
I sent him my list and I tried to be nice
As good as I knew how to be
But Christmas Morning brought me sweaters and socks
And I didn't think it was fair
The bully in the mansion got the stuff that I'd asked for
And I wondered if Santa was there

CHORUS:

But I saw him on the Six O'Clock News
Smiling and a-winking at me
Standing with the rich men in their three-piece suits
Grinning as wide as can be
I want to ask, "When do we get a choice?
Where is the help for the poor girls and boys?
How long till somebody hears our voice?"
But all I get is, "Wait and see."


I sent all my prayers to God above
But He never listened to me
I prayed for His help and followed his rules
And watched his preachers on the TV
But they told us the people the Bible tells us to love
We really ought to hate and fear
Then they asked me to send them my cash when I'm broke
And I wondered, is God really here?

CHORUS

BRIDGE:

I've tried to have faith in America's promise
So all of my grievances I've aired
But what is the point of going through the motions
When the people in charge just don't care?

I send my letters to my Congressman
But he never listens to me
I ask him what he's doing to help working folks
But I keep it phrased most courteously
But he's too busy raising money for his next campaign
Taking checks from his corporate friends
His opponent is doing the exact same thing
Is this how democracy ends?

CHORUS:

And I saw them on the Six O'Clock News
Smiling and a-winking at me
Standing with the rich men in their three-piece suits
Grinning as wide as can be
I want to ask, "When do we get a choice?
Where is the help for the poor girls and boys?
How long till somebody hears our voice?"
(spoken): And the rich men say: "Never, if we can help it!"

(sung): I guess I'll wait and see
redneckgaijin: (Default)
(a song that's been rattling around in my head for months, about the life of dealers at fan-based conventions)

THURSDAY EVENING, AND THE TENTS GO UP.

You drive eight hundred miles with everything you could find to sell
Stop just long enough to check into a cheap fleabag motel
Then over to the con hotel and the exhibition hall
Just another weekend at the carnival

Set up your booth all Thursday night and come back again at the break of light
Ready to sell with two minutes until
The Friday shoppers trickle in, and with them comes the awful din
Of the fans who pay your food and rent and bills

"Do you have that shirt in my size?"
"Will you be here all three days?"
"Do you have that show, you know, by the creators of Maze?"
"Do you accept plastic, I think the Visa's clear?"
"Oh man, thank God I found you here!"

SATURDAY, AND THE RUSH IS ON.

On Saturday the tidal wave crashes through the dealer's door
A mob of fans, costumed hams, and shoplifters galore
A crowd forms up along your table looking to buy
Whatever thing of yours has caught their eye

The lulls in traffic are too brief, and closing comes as sweet relief
Now's your chance to have a little fun
But you eat your dinner all alone, wander the con on your own
In a crowded hotel you're a crowd of one

"There's no games I want to play tonight,
There's no films I want to see,
I can't believe these kids are so much younger than me!
How the hell will I retire?
You call this a career?
Good God Almighty, what am I doing here?"

SUNDAY, AND THE CONVENTION IS DYING.

After they check out of their rooms, before they say goodbye
The Sunday shoppers trickle in to make their final buys
The plastic boxes come back out, the displays are coming down
The carnival is moving on to another town

You've made enough to pay the bills and keep gas in the truck until
Your next convention somewhere down the road
And the fans keep talking with their friends, pretending conventions never end,
Making one last purchase to lighten up your load

"Hey wait, are you still open?"
"Do you still have that thing I see?"
"I'm here to pay for the stuff you held behind the table for me!"
"Do you have card so I can order
the stuff you don't have here?"
"Tell me, will you be back next year?"

And in a week or month you load the truck and make another haul
To another town, another con, another carnival

--- "The Carnival," lyrics copyright 2008 Kris Overstreet
redneckgaijin: (Default)
(a song that's been rattling around in my head for months, about the life of dealers at fan-based conventions)

THURSDAY EVENING, AND THE TENTS GO UP.

You drive eight hundred miles with everything you could find to sell
Stop just long enough to check into a cheap fleabag motel
Then over to the con hotel and the exhibition hall
Just another weekend at the carnival

Set up your booth all Thursday night and come back again at the break of light
Ready to sell with two minutes until
The Friday shoppers trickle in, and with them comes the awful din
Of the fans who pay your food and rent and bills

"Do you have that shirt in my size?"
"Will you be here all three days?"
"Do you have that show, you know, by the creators of Maze?"
"Do you accept plastic, I think the Visa's clear?"
"Oh man, thank God I found you here!"

SATURDAY, AND THE RUSH IS ON.

On Saturday the tidal wave crashes through the dealer's door
A mob of fans, costumed hams, and shoplifters galore
A crowd forms up along your table looking to buy
Whatever thing of yours has caught their eye

The lulls in traffic are too brief, and closing comes as sweet relief
Now's your chance to have a little fun
But you eat your dinner all alone, wander the con on your own
In a crowded hotel you're a crowd of one

"There's no games I want to play tonight,
There's no films I want to see,
I can't believe these kids are so much younger than me!
How the hell will I retire?
You call this a career?
Good God Almighty, what am I doing here?"

SUNDAY, AND THE CONVENTION IS DYING.

After they check out of their rooms, before they say goodbye
The Sunday shoppers trickle in to make their final buys
The plastic boxes come back out, the displays are coming down
The carnival is moving on to another town

You've made enough to pay the bills and keep gas in the truck until
Your next convention somewhere down the road
And the fans keep talking with their friends, pretending conventions never end,
Making one last purchase to lighten up your load

"Hey wait, are you still open?"
"Do you still have that thing I see?"
"I'm here to pay for the stuff you held behind the table for me!"
"Do you have card so I can order
the stuff you don't have here?"
"Tell me, will you be back next year?"

And in a week or month you load the truck and make another haul
To another town, another con, another carnival

--- "The Carnival," lyrics copyright 2008 Kris Overstreet

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