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Bullies In The Backyard

by Matt North

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1.
He’s waiting on the clouds to go ahead and break He’s waiting on the grounds to go ahead and shake He's waiting on the dealer to play one good hand He's waiting on his hundred to turn into a grand He’s waiting on his will to go ahead and cave He’s waiting on his savior to hurry up and save He’s waiting on the women to see what they’re missing He’s tired of all the frogs he’s been kissing He's changing with the times, but he’s still set in his ways He can’t afford to leave and he can’t afford to stay He's waiting on the clown to pop out of the can They keep winding him up He's the last angry man He's waiting in God's waiting room with a People magazine He’s waiting on that big phone call that changes everything He’s waiting on a reason to get him out of bed He stood in line forever and it never moved ahead He's changing with the times, but he’s still set in his ways He can’t afford to leave and he can’t afford to stay He's waiting on the clown to pop out of the can They keep winding him up He's the last angry man He hears the wind a’ whistle and it whistles, it whistles a hymn He hears the thunder clapping and it’s clapping, it’s clapping for him And he stops and he starts and stops And he stops and he starts and stops And starts up again He's not waiting on Medusa to look him in the eye He’s not waiting on Big Foot to come running by His whole world around him, all he sees is angry men He’s not alone or crazy, just every now and then He sees the clouds above go ahead and break They laugh and put him down it puts a smile on his face Now they’re waiting on the clown to pop out the can He keeps winding them up, he keeps winding them up He’s the last angry man
2.
You were great, we loved you It was a homerun and a bullseye You couldn’t have done it any better We’re gonna go with the other guy… Maybe next time, maybe next year So they leave you in the dark You never knew it hurt so bad Coming so close and missing the mark I’ll be at the Formosa Café, Formosa of the day I’ll be down in Hollywood Forever below a wilted bouquet I’ll find my own watering hole for the head cold in my soul And they’ll keep serving you a mayonnaise sandwich on a silver tray Red ribbons, silver medals Go better with my hair and eyes Like Bobby Knight throwing a chair I’ll take a second place first prize Bring me flowers, pebbles and stones I’ll be waiting in a place forgot You know it doesn’t hurt so bad Coming so close and missing the plot I’ll be at the Formosa Café, Formosa of the day I’ll be down in Hollywood Forever below a wilted bouquet I’ll find my own watering hole for the head cold in my soul And they’ll keep serving you a mayonnaise sandwich on a silver tray I’ll be at the Formosa Café, Formosa of the day I’ll be down in Hollywood Forever below a wilted bouquet I’ll find my own watering hole for the head cold in my soul Where I’ll be serving you a mayonnaise sandwich A big, fat mayonnaise sandwich I’ll be down in Hollywood under the stars on a silver tray
3.
Trophy Case 02:50
Play stupid games, win stupid prizes People eating trolls wearing people disguises She’ll make you work for it, then she’ll make you sing You can see the tan line ‘round her wedding ring She’s a blessed woman with a fortunate life A very good mom and a terrible wife Thought you were immune, thought you’d be strong All you got was a trophy with your name spelled wrong Sleeps all day, she bathes in milk Hunts her prey at night in a robe of silk Now, she never felt a thing, never felt remorse Said she loves you, but she won’t get a divorce You’re a blessed man with a fortunate wife A solid breadwinner with a terrible life Thought you were immune, thought you’d be strong All you got was a trophy with your name spelled wrong The hourglass won’t flip back over Too late to close the barn door Don’t wear your diamonds to the grocery store She’s so cold, her pipes don’t freeze Left you standing all alone with a beard of bees You’ll never stop chasing all that you’ll never know You guess it’s easier to stay than to pack up and go She’s a blessed woman with a fortunate life A very good mom and a terrible wife Thought you were immune, thought you were strong All you got was a trophy with your name spelled wrong
4.
Will you outlive your money? Will your money outlive you? Do you have your own seat at the table? Or are you on the menu? Do you go to work on Monday? And bust balls about the bottom line? Do you go to church on Sunday? Where you make it all okay in your mind? No one’s sitting with you, no one’s sitting with you You’re sitting all alone, but you got your own seat at the table You’re sitting all alone, but you got your own seat at the table You’re sitting on a throne, a little bit unstable Did you take them all to the cleaners? Did you train ‘em how to sit and beg? Are you padding the bills? Are you cooking the books? Did you make ‘em pay an arm and a leg? Did you stick it to them ‘til they went hungry? Did you bleed them ‘til they can’t even feel? Did you read about that Machiavellian guy? Getting ready for your last meal? No one’s sitting with you, no one’s sitting you You’re sitting all alone, but you got your own seat at the table You’re sitting all alone, but you got your own seat at the table Now your kids are all grown, a little a bit unstable When the villagers storm the castle Will you run away and hide in a hole? They’ll be hearing a sound, your body hitting the ground No one’s saving your soul, no one’s saving your soul You’re sitting all alone, but you got your own seat at the table You’re sitting all alone, but you got your own seat at the table You’re sitting on a throne, your kids are all grown Do you go to work? Are you doing fine? Will it trickle down? While we marking time? If we ask for more are we out in the street? When it costs too much do you turn off the heat? Did you win big? Do ya keep score? Did you take it all? Then a little more? Will you cut them all loose? Are you closing the blinds? While the rest of us all scared out of our minds Did you burn through your money? Did your money burn through you?
5.
Right below the surface Where a land mine sits One wrong move And I’ll blow us all to bits I’ve been bumping into things I’ve been spilling all my drinks My gutter’s overflowing And I watch while the foundation sinks I’ve been laying low I blame it on the weather I don’t want anyone to know I’m over here trying to hold it together I kill them all with kindness Somehow they come back from the dead So I keep killing them with kindness It’s better for my head I reinvented reinventing But I still have the same face My hindsight is fifty-fifty And I always end up back in the same place I’ve been laying low This spell is going on forever I don’t want anyone to know I’m over here trying to hold it together I’ve been turned down, turned away Turned off and turned blue Held it together too long Until it broke off and shattered in two Man, I’ve had it with this scene Where all the insults are hurled I think I’m cutting out on this circus I think I’ll run off and join the world I’ve been laying low But nothing lasts forever And when I’ve got nowhere to go I’ll be over here…trying to hold… Before I get too old… I’m over here, here, here… Holding it all together
6.
Firing Squad 03:45
Maybe I’ll write that song about drinking and smoking them drugs Maybe I’ll write about my old flame or no female thugs All of the other songwriters all got there first Maybe what I’m keeping from you is a little bit worse Maybe I thought I was Jesus when I heard a voice from God Maybe I talk to myself in public even though I look odd You can visit me anytime in the fifth floor of my mind Give me a blindfold, a cigarette, and take me to the firing squad Maybe they locked me up in a room with no windows Maybe that white-padded wall felt good when it’s hitting my nose Could have been a dream – it was a long, long time ago Maybe it was or it wasn’t, if it was, well you’ll never know Chorus Maybe I’m a prime candidate for electro-shock therapy Maybe that judge couldn’t tell when I committed perjury All those other ones, I never could make them see You better put on your kid gloves if you’re getting close to me Maybe I thought I was Jesus when I heard a voice from God Maybe I talk to myself in public even though I look odd Maybe they put me in isolation, over a silly little altercation Maybe I was self-medicating, or maybe I was really levitating Well, you can visit me anytime in the fifth floor of my mind – Cmaj7 Give me a blindfold, a cigarette, and take me to the firing squad Give me a blindfold, a cigarette, and take me to the firing squad Maybe I did or I didn’t, if I did, well you’ll never know You better put on your kid gloves if you’re getting close to me
7.
Do you ever live on the outside? Waiting to go on the big ride? You knock on the door and wait You look in the window and see Everybody's in there looking fancy, fancy free Do you ever live on the inside? Sitting on the top of the big slide? You watch every move you make You think before you speak Everybody's watching you, there's no room in there to breathe Stay on the outside, Stay on the outside Stay on the outside and shoot in Stay on the outside, where we gang up in two by twos Stay on the outside, where it’s okay to win or lose Stay on the outside, just you and your elephant skin Stay on the outside and shoot in Do you ever live on the inside? With nowhere left to run and hide? You look over your shoulder and wait For the house of cards to fall Don’t know who your friends are? Do you have any friends at all? Stay on the outside, Stay on the outside Stay on the outside and shoot in Stay on the outside, where we gang up in two by twos Stay on the outside, where it’s okay to win or lose Stay on the outside, just you and your elephant skin Stay on the outside and shoot in
8.
On the top of the fridge, my top-secret place Where I stash all my treasure nothing else can replace A jar of raspberry preserves, they come in the mail From my hippie mother-in-law on the Oregon Trail She been growing those berries back deep in the woods When harvest time comes, she’s the gal with the goods We take a zip-lock bag, drop a jar inside Nothing hazardous or perishable, we ship nationwide To the top of the fridge, the top of the fridge On the top of the fridge, I keep my glasses and keys Bills I haven’t paid for all my overdue fees But the blue-ribbon winner in the old glass jar Raspberry preserves for the way that I are Every night around ten, maybe nine forty-five I’m like a big brown bear getting in a beehive I go Buzz-a-buzz-buzz, a-buzz-a-buzz-a-buzz-buzz My doctor said it’s legal, ain’t afraid of the fuzz On the top of the fridge, the top of the fridge It’s where I mind my own business, where I clear out my head Take my ugly thoughts, send them down on a sled ’Til they drain out one side, tumble way down low To the bottom of the fridge, a place I don’t go The bottom of the fridge, a place I don’t go On my father’s old fridge, back to where it began I’d get up on a stool and I’d check out my old man I found raspberry preserves, like I’m having now Never knew what I was knowing, never caught me no how On the top of the fridge, the top of the fridge To the top of the fridge To the top of the fridge
9.
They raise the ticket prices And name the stadium after a bank I’d take you out to the ballgame If we had any gas in the tank We see the fireworks in the distance If we listen, we can hear The Sounds Our team is cursed playing home games Over those Indian Burial Grounds They named the stadium after a bank It’s save, save up for the home team Maybe you can get a ballpark frank For it’s one, two, three, four and you’re walking And they’re laughing all the way to the bank We hear the crowd from our front porch They’re drinking beer and eating crackerjack If they don’t win, is it really a shame? Do we care if we ever go back? No… They named the stadium after a bank They know where all…the bodies are buried They still hem and haw and debate They’ll never know, the weight you carry Never let you slide into home plate Do we care if we ever go back? Do we care if we ever go back? Do we care if we ever go back? Do we care if we ever go back? They named the stadium after a bank (Do we care if we ever go back?)
10.
Plan B 03:37
You can’t see wind in a photograph You can’t feel heat on tv You won’t smell rain on the radio You won’t see a ghost in 3D There’s no doctor, there’s no nurse If God has a plan come to me I’m either stuck in a standstill, or going in reverse If God has a plan what’s plan B? You won’t find truth in my polygraph I won’t say I’m afraid of you You’re all smoke and no fire But even smoke kills too There’s knots in my stomach, knots in my tears If God has a plan come to me Those lumps in my throat, they’ve been lumping for years If God has a plan what’s plan B? Who does the universe ask for favors? Who does the universe deceive? Who does the universe ask for favors? Who does the universe believe? You can find hope on an epitaph You can lose it all and you weren’t wrong You can find truth in a belly laugh We can burn bright, but not long Every sun casts a shadow, every shadow casts a sun You can lose it all and go free The hill’s getting steeper And the hole’s getting deeper If God has a plan what’s plan B? Who does the universe ask for favors? Who does the universe believe? Who does the universe ask for favors? If God has a plan what’s plan B?

about

All songs written by MATT NORTH

Mixed by JIM SCOTT @ PLYRZ Studios, Valencia, CA
Mastered by PETE LYMAN @ Infrasonic Mastering, Nashville, TN
Photography by ANGELINA CASTILLO
Art Design by ELIZABETH JONES

Produced by MATT NORTH
Recorded in Nashville, TN

credits

released February 11, 2022

STUART MATHIS - Guitars
CHRIS DONOHUE – Bass
MICHAEL WEBB – Keyboards
SIOBHAN MAHER KENNEDY – BGVs 8, 9, 10
MATT FISH – Cello 2
PAUL THACKER – Saxophone 1, 2, 6, 7
DIEGO VASQUEZ – Trombone 1, 2, 6, 7
KIRK DONOVAN – Trumpet 1, 2, 6, 7
FOLEY LEVON NORTH – BGVs 3, Handclaps 8
MATT NORTH – Vocals, Drums, Percussion

BENJAMIN KNAPP - assistant mix engineer

© 2022 Matt North ASCAP. All rights reserved. All music and lyrics used by permission

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Matt North Nashville, Tennessee

“I started writing songs in my 30's and started finishing them in my 40's.” – Matt North

Raised on equal doses of Hee-Haw and Soul Train in Champaign, IL, North began as a neighborhood drummer jamming to Devo and Kiss albums in his garage. His father’s family were Scotch-Irish coal miners in Harlan County, KY. At 15, he worked at Farm Aid I picking up trash. He blames that day for pursuing music.
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