God | Hardtack | Alienation
My ancestors slit the throat of a Jesuit
300 years later I almost became one.
Ancestors from much more recent times came West in a wagon.
Buckshot, bourbon, hardtack.
Became pioneers in Clayton, California, just across the bridge from San Francisco, at the foot of Mt. Diablo.
Great-Great-Grandfather George created the Chapman Hotel and sired many a child, including my great-grandmother, Lillian.
Warriors, seafarers, renegade lawmen, poets, target shooters, jilted cuckolds, crackerjack explorers.
But times have changed.
Like Chuck D said, "Welcome to the Terrordome."
Duel at high noon, paradigm to paradigm.
No holds barred on the astral plane.
Pack your spiritual six-shooter, you’re gonna need it
There’s a bounty on your soul but you get to choose who takes it
Gotta serve somebody, Zimmy said.
It might be that mammon and it might be the heavens
But you’re gonna have to serve somebody
So giddyup little doggies
And ready aim fire
The streets of Laredo are piled with dead bodies
And signs that say KEEP OUT
Go ahead and cry for me Susanna
I ain’t goin to Alabama
‘cause my darling Clementine is right here
Rugged meant tough, principled, determined
Brave and family first
Go your own way when you have to
Barons and flimflam men
Charlatans of the spirit
Play hocus pocus with reality
Change the rules at their whim
Calling it bottom line
To each one's own for every single living creature
And here’s some raggedy bootstraps
If you can’t pull yourself up with 'em
Maybe you can cook ‘em up for stew
The last campfire might be made from the remains of your home
If you have one.
There is only going forward there is no going back
And to paraphrase John Donne no person is an island
no matter how rugged you think you are
from Physical Science
track releases March 16, 2018
Written and produced by PC Muñoz
PCM: electronics, drumkit, voice
Recorded and mixed by Willie Samuels @ Studio Trilogy, SF, CA
Mastered by Gary Hobish/A.Hammer Mastering, SF, CA
all rights reserved