Heart In A Mason Jar, by Alex Culbreth & The Dead Country Stars (2024)

1.

Do you remember when we first met?The barroom stank of beer and clove cigarettesThe place was empty but I burned through my set anywaysMy blood was flammable as pure gasolineYou wore black eyeshadow and a grudge it seemedAgainst them boys who bought you everything you ever wantedShe keeps my heart in a Mason jarFilled it with whiskey at the Lonestar BarFormaldehyde and cheap cigarsDo you remember when we first kissed?Out in the alleyway while some drunk was taking a pissI blacked out but I couldn’t forget you, babyYou hailed a cab, I got sick in the backThe driver kicked us out on 7th Ave.We found a motel and we wrecked the bed for hours(Chorus)Just last December, you up and leftLeaving me all the bills and a burning itchA destructive pattern I was bound to repeat again and again(Chorus)

2.

Girl, you've been up all night on BenzedrineYou got looks from your mama, your daddy taught you to drinkMy tolerance is low, my memories are fewBut darlin' tonight I'll be drinkin' bout youYeah darlin' tonight I'll be drinkin' bout youWell, your perfume's enough to sober me upAnd the taste from your lips, it used to get me drunkBut now what do I drink when the liquor store's closedAnd this empty bottle is all I have to hold?Well, the city's in shambles as the seasons shed their skinsAnd you've been making drinkers out of sober menI got some rotgut wine that I’ve been nursing all dayIt's in a brown paper bag, it tastes better that wayGirl, you've been up all night on BenzedrineYou got looks from your mama, your daddy taught you to drinkMy tolerance is low, my memories are fewBut darlin' tonight I'll be drinkin' bout youYeah darlin' tonight I'll be drinkin' bout youIn the town of my kinfolk, the riverbed's dryBut I've heard tales of a stream that runs whiskey and wineI had a dream last night of a mountain townWhere I found that stream and drank till I drowned

3.

Where will my troubles go when they go?Will they burst like a firecracker from within my soul?Will they tumble like that old oak tree that the crows all called home?Where will my troubles go when they go?I been drinking corn liquor just to get drunk quickerAnd drown this lovesick heartCause my girl's been seen running round on meWith every man with an electric guitarBut I'll do that woman rightI'll call her sister up tonightI'll take her from her daddy's farm and then I'll take her out behind the barnWhere will my troubles go when they go?Though I work and plow, they're like a crop that just won't growBut I feel them cold winds blowing, boys, the country's calling me homeWhere will my troubles go when they go?I’ve been playing Patsy Cline and sipping strong moonshineFor seventeen nights and daysAnd all my kinfolk are praying and the preacher man is sayingI should change my sinful waysBut I'll bet this broken heart can mend On liquor, lust, and sinIt's my saving grace and I'll be damned if I'll be led astrayWhere will my troubles go when they go?Will they no longer burden this lonesome, broken soul?Will I hear that freight train coming, boys, when it's bound to carry me home?Where will my troubles go when they go?

4.

Taste the beer and cigarettes in these songs that I sighIn a town of merchants with nothing to sell but my prideI’ve been strumming sandpaper chords and singing like a crowAll these wasted songs that I lived on the roadGoddamn the labels and the tapes they returnedAnd goddamn these cities and all the bridges I've burnedI'm going to Nashville, I'm going to NashvilleI hope it's as bright as it's been in my dreamsI'm going to Nashville, I'm going to NashvilleAs kind as them country songs led me to believe I'm going to NashvilleI used to drink corroded wine till my heart would go numbAnd swallow ink for hours, hoping for the words to comeBut now I'm doing better and keeping sober as I play the barsAnd catching stories from barflies in my Mason jarGoddamn these chemicals that are still in my bonesAnd goddamn the miles that have kept me from home(Chorus)Back in Carolina, the city's closed down by fiveAnd my mother's singing, keeping all those hymns aliveSome nights my chest feels hollow after I play the showCause my heart's still beating in my sweet, southern homeGoddamn these songs and the long, snaking roadsThey've never killed the longing that I feel when aloneHope it's better in Nashville, hope it's better in NashvilleI hope it's as bright as it's been in my dreamsCause I'm going to Nashville, I'm going to NashvilleAs kind as them country songs led me to believe I'm going to Nashville

5.

Rattle them chains for your drunken fatherRattle them chains for the scarsYou’ve been moving like molasses, like the Mississippi RiverRattle them chains from afarA couple pretty women shedding crocodile tearsOn the day that he bought the farmHe had to rattle them chainsRattle your cage by the witching hourRattle the king from the throneThere's a crow perched upon a telephone wireRattle your aching, old bonesBattery acid and a crooked smileThe lonely are never aloneWhen they rattle their chainsFlutter your wings, outturned empty pocketsRattle them pearly, white gatesSt. Peter’s just bouncer and you’re not on the listRally them sinners and the saintsNobody’s name gets remembered for sitting on their assThey all had to rattle their chains

6.

Mercy, mercy meTurn up that radio, I want my ears to bleedYou hear the sound of the music, that’s the life for meCry me a river, mercy me I was born in the back of a ’57 ChevyWith my daddy doing 90, my mama breathing heavyHer water broke at midnight in the grocery storeShe yelled, “Cleanup in aisle 4!”Seems like all the girls in my town got hitched to MarinesKnocked up and settled by the age of eighteenBut I would not be tamed by some small town dameI had one foot on the pedal, the other in my graveIn fact one time when I was fifteenI sat a girlfriend of mine on the washing machineMy older brother told me though it didn’t make sense“She’ll get the ride of her life for just 25 cents!”I got a malt liquor tan from my old manA busted-up hand me down old Trans AmThe rabbit in my blood, itch I shouldn’t scratchThe women on my mind and the monkey on my back Mercy, mercy meTurn up that radio, give me room to breatheCrack open that bottle, roll a joint for meWell lordy lordy, mercy me I went down to the pawnshop and bought a guitarA set of steel strings and an old chord chartI stepped into my room and I disappearedI didn’t come out for nearly three yearsBy eighteen the alimony had run dryMy daddy up and left my mama high and dryShe couldn’t keep on the lights waiting tables at nightSo I thought I’d get me a job, play some music on the sideI looked old for my age so they didn’t IDI played a bar down in Macon a couple nights a weekWhen I started strumming, the strangest thing happenedWomen started staring, hollering, and clappingAnd good goddamn I was sure impressedThat this old six-string could have such an effectLike a woman in the backseat of my Trans AmI popped the clutch a few times but she made this boy a man Mercy, mercy meTurn up that radio, fix me a drinkYou see that woman, what she does to meWell thank God I’m a sinner, mercy me Some producer spotted me, now I play all the timeI’ve got a big tour bus on the record label’s dimeThe drinks are always free, so are the pillsI grew a taste for them like I did pretty girlsI stopped sending mama paychecks long agoYou know the court costs are high and I’m deep in the holeMy first wife took my heart and she drug it aroundMy second wife took what they didn’t bolt downAnd I tried getting clean, I tried going straightBut you can sell more records once you’re fresh in the graveI'd give the drugs and the fame and the tour busTo go back to when the music was enoughThe judge can string me up but the rope it’ll snapI’ve cut a deal with the devil and he cut me some slackThere’s no rest for the weary, I’ll sleep when I’m deadI’ll leave note on the bureau and I’ll step out on the ledge Mercy, mercy meShut off that radio, I think they’re playing meYou see this life I’m living, what it’s done to meCry me a river, mercy me

7.

In the Brooklyn Psychiatric WardPlastic Jello cups and shuffleboardThe hospital’s such a scary placeBut you’ve got such a kind faceIn the Brooklyn Psychiatric WardIn the looney bin, it’s so good to have a friendMe and Daisy can go on talking for hours on endI get so confused sometimesI’m missing puzzle pieces in my mindIn the looney bin, it’s so good to have a friendBut the doctors say that you’re not realIt’s just a symptom of my condition that makes you appearThat medication can ease the strain of the neurons firing in my brainBut I was hoping that you wouldn’t disappearCause I’d hung my dreams out to dryWith the other patients’ clothes upon the lineI left a breadcrumb trail to find The man I was but I left behindI’d hung my dreams out to dryThey’ve been pumping me full of ThorazineHell, Daisy you’re the only good thing to happen to meNow the visiting hours are throughAnd I ain’t seen hide nor hair of youThey’ve been pumping me full of Thorazine(Chorus)The doctor says they’ll let me out real soonThey lined me up a job in a Jersey tollboothI ain’t seen you in a whileGod, I wish you could see me nowSo I’m gonna flush the pills once they send me homeI’m gonna flush the pills, Daisy, I’ll see you soon

8.

Sweet Savannah, you’re the only oneTo leave me staring down the wrong end of a gunA couple shiners and a whiskey hazeThat's got the room spinning roundA whiff of cocaine and lightning in my veinsI told my mama that her boy ain't changedI've got little white pills to give me the strength of thirteen menYou always loved that old Motown songI smashed the jukebox, blood running down my armI couldn't feel a thing so we just laughed and sang alongShots rang, bang bang bang, to the rhythm of the songWhile James Brown sangYou've got a choice, pretty baby, that you've gotta makeTo burn out and leave a beautiful corpse or just fade awayThis kinda living ain't good for your soulYou get a taste and you lose controlCrash your Cadillac into a red oak treeTom Petty blasting on the radio, “I won’t back down”Bottle of red, a case of the bluesBloodshot, burnt out, battered, and bruisedI looked into the mirror And the face that I saw was not my own(Chorus)

9.

Let’s send the politicians off to warTo fight for what younger men have been dying forThey all don’t know sh*t, they’ll be the first to fill their drawersLet’s send the politicians off to warLet’s send the politicians off to fightDrop them in Afghanistan and ask them if it’s rightIf their cause is worth risking their own livesLet’s send the politicians off to fightThat’ll be the day when old men fight their warsWhen they put up or shut up, instead of keeping scoreTheir political agendas won’t mean nothing anymoreIf we send the politicians off to warI bet they’ll all be sh*tting in their pants Instead of out of their mouths for once, I guessBring the boys back home and ship out Congress insteadI’ll bet they’ll all be sh*tting in their pants(Chorus)Let’s send the politicians off to warCause we ain’t gonna stand for their bullsh*t anymoreIf it’s true that the pen is mightier than the swordThen send the politicians off to war

10.

The wretched and the righteousThe pushers and the piousNo one is forsaken in the endThe tycoons and the poorThe sweetheart and the whor*No one is forsaken in the endThere must be a place where they walk togetherWhere all's forgiven, every man your brotherBe it the straight and narrow or the primrose pathWe all fall short of the promised landThe politicians and the preachersThe loudmouth in the bleachersNo one is forsaken in the endThe drunkard stumbling homeThe orphan all aloneNo one is forsaken in the end(Chorus)The wretched and the righteousThe pushers and the piousNo one is forsaken in the endNot Caesar or BrutusNot even Jesus and JudasNo one is forsaken in the end(Chorus)

11.

I don't need your liquor, boys, don't need your wineCause I get more loaded off of turpentineI been buying funny shrooms off of cowboy JuneAnd just burning out my eyes from that Colorado moonLike an anarchist in Texas that I used to know I’ve got a wine jug grin and a kerosene soulBoys, I'm through with them turpentine bluesI’ve been writing all these songs on my dead flaking skinWith a freight train voice that's off the tracks againThere's a black mountain angel and I sometimes like to see herSinging something sweet down by the river streamThe women south are easy, boys, it's just my luckThey're like apples on the orchard waiting to be pluckedBoys, I'm through with them southern belle bluesI’ve been strumming on these dead strings instead of doing timeFor bootlegging whiskey mixed with turpentineBack home my woman's waiting with a pot of possum stewA suicide novel and a loaded .22Cause the girls all go rabid in the morning when I crowWith my steam engine heart and my Oklahoma soulBoys, I'm through with them turpentine blues

12.

Singing these songs is my salvation, my death sentence, and my damnationAll night diners and filling stations They’ll swallow body and soulLike the graveyard with its teeth of alabaster stoneBut for now it’s brown liquor, burnt rubber, interstate signsA man needs a little sumpin’ sumpin’ on the side I’ve got nothing to lose but to lose my mind and my money to get myself a honey Negotiations in the parking lot of a Parkersburg Denny’sSnakeskin sweaty boots, cottonmouth blues, my mama didn’t raise no goddamn foolI heard Gabriel’s trumpet ‘neath a seasick moonI awoke behind a liquor storeHell, it was only my head resting drunk on the hornSometimes I feel like I just can’t take it, got a premonition and I just can’t shake itDead like Elvis on the toilet bowl nakedThese dreams, they’re never what they seemLike 25 cent rubbers from vending machinesSinging these songs is my salvation, my death sentence, and my damnationFollowing visions and hallucinationsBroke, I can’t carry a noteHell, I’m as rusty as the razor held up to my throat

13.

All the gamblers seem to come from Odessa, lady luck wrapped round their armsWith a nudie deck and railway whiskey as strong as southern charmBut I don't mind it much, I just grin and bluff with four queens hid in my sleeveTill one lays down his hand, it's the royal family, he takes a swig and says to meBoy, take it slow down the dusty roads and you'll get there by and byTake your soul and sell it for scrap to any fool that's willing to buyFind yourself a woman with a hundred-proof heart that can drain any bottle dryAnd when the going gets tough, you'll make it by and byWell, the hounds they bayed on the night I was born in the spring of 1904And Jonesborough stayed as sweet as summer fruit, as old as Alabama folkloreHe said, "I bottled the nectar of the Appalacian and I sold it through TennesseeYou've got the strongest liquors west of Roanoke and the prettiest women I've seen"(Chorus)He said, "Son, Odessa's got a golden-haired beauty who once gave her love to meBut she's betrothed to a Philadelphia lawyer with prospects and propertyAnd so I traveled the South, hopping passenger trains to get just as far as I couldWithout a penny to your name, a heart of gold just ain't no good."(Chorus)