I Don't Care About This Song
written by: Jak Locke
written by: Jak Locke
version 1:
from Heavy Root (December 20th 1999) (as "I Don't Care About This Song (4am)") (5:34)
Sheddin sweat bullets like a sawed-off gun
Flying off walls in a room of one
Peelin off plaster from my ceiling fan
Toothpick wound in the middle of my hand
Limp wet dollar layin down in a glass
Filter smokin killer's jumpin on my ass
Broken record rockin from five to nine
With a burnt-out jimmy workin for the wine
Givin us directions
Seven plain selections
Liquid mind corrections
I'm like damn
Semaphore junkies wavin plastic flags
Wake of confusion in my sleepin bag
Blue dye runnin down the side of his face
I want a whiskey sour with a shot of mace
Corporate disco on the side of the street
Dusty gray bones looking for the meat
Salivate your life on the side of the ditches
While your Frankenstein monster's pickin at his stitches
Givin us directions
Seven plain selections
Liquid mind corrections
I'm like damn
Fisherman's net caught up in a draft
Suicidal monkey hanging on the raft
Detrimental can in the back of a truck
Ask for directions and you're out of luck
Silver tongued artist with the tarnish blues
Road hockey hitcher with nothing to lose
Cremated man in a brown ashtray
You can't hit a note when you try to play
Givin us directions
Seven plain selections
Liquid mind corrections
I'm like damn
Givin us directions
Don't ask for a dollar from me
You ain't worth my time
Ain't nothin to see in this city
Everything's on one street
Why you keep botherin me
You drunk enough as it is
I ain't got no money anyway
If I did I wouldn't need directions from you
So go bother those people over there
But leave me alone
You keep on bothering me
Why don't you take a hint
We ain't got no money and neither do our girls
And you drunk enough as it is
I'm like damn
I'm like damn
And my cigarette's burnin my hand
Flying off walls in a room of one
Peelin off plaster from my ceiling fan
Toothpick wound in the middle of my hand
Limp wet dollar layin down in a glass
Filter smokin killer's jumpin on my ass
Broken record rockin from five to nine
With a burnt-out jimmy workin for the wine
Givin us directions
Seven plain selections
Liquid mind corrections
I'm like damn
Semaphore junkies wavin plastic flags
Wake of confusion in my sleepin bag
Blue dye runnin down the side of his face
I want a whiskey sour with a shot of mace
Corporate disco on the side of the street
Dusty gray bones looking for the meat
Salivate your life on the side of the ditches
While your Frankenstein monster's pickin at his stitches
Givin us directions
Seven plain selections
Liquid mind corrections
I'm like damn
Fisherman's net caught up in a draft
Suicidal monkey hanging on the raft
Detrimental can in the back of a truck
Ask for directions and you're out of luck
Silver tongued artist with the tarnish blues
Road hockey hitcher with nothing to lose
Cremated man in a brown ashtray
You can't hit a note when you try to play
Givin us directions
Seven plain selections
Liquid mind corrections
I'm like damn
Givin us directions
Don't ask for a dollar from me
You ain't worth my time
Ain't nothin to see in this city
Everything's on one street
Why you keep botherin me
You drunk enough as it is
I ain't got no money anyway
If I did I wouldn't need directions from you
So go bother those people over there
But leave me alone
You keep on bothering me
Why don't you take a hint
We ain't got no money and neither do our girls
And you drunk enough as it is
I'm like damn
I'm like damn
And my cigarette's burnin my hand
version 2:
from Heavy Root (December 20th 1999) (as "I Don't Care About This Song (Midnight)") (4:29)
Sheddin sweat bullets like a sawed-off gun
Flying off walls in a room of one
Peelin off plaster from my ceiling fan
Toothpick wound in the middle of my hand
Limp wet dollar layin down in a glass
Filter smokin killer's jumpin on my ass
Broken record rockin from five to nine
With a burnt-out jimmy workin for the wine
Givin us directions
Seven plain selections
Liquid mind corrections
I'm like damn
Semaphore junkies wavin plastic flags
Wake of confusion in my sleepin bag
Blue dye runnin down the side of his face
I want a whiskey sour with a shot of mace
Corporate disco on the side of the street
Dusty gray bones looking for the meat
Salivate your life on the side of the ditches
While your Frankenstein monster's pickin at his stitches
Givin us directions
Seven plain selections
Liquid mind corrections
I'm like damn
Fisherman's net caught up in a draft
Suicidal monkey hanging on the raft
Detrimental can in the back of a truck
Ask for directions and you're out of luck
Silver tongued artist with the tarnish blues
Road hockey hitcher with nothing to lose
Cremated man in a brown ashtray
You can't hit a note when you try to play
Givin us directions
Seven plain selections
Liquid mind corrections
I'm like damn
Givin us directions
Don't ask for no dollar from me
My girl ain't got no money neither
So just leave us alone
I'm like damn
Flying off walls in a room of one
Peelin off plaster from my ceiling fan
Toothpick wound in the middle of my hand
Limp wet dollar layin down in a glass
Filter smokin killer's jumpin on my ass
Broken record rockin from five to nine
With a burnt-out jimmy workin for the wine
Givin us directions
Seven plain selections
Liquid mind corrections
I'm like damn
Semaphore junkies wavin plastic flags
Wake of confusion in my sleepin bag
Blue dye runnin down the side of his face
I want a whiskey sour with a shot of mace
Corporate disco on the side of the street
Dusty gray bones looking for the meat
Salivate your life on the side of the ditches
While your Frankenstein monster's pickin at his stitches
Givin us directions
Seven plain selections
Liquid mind corrections
I'm like damn
Fisherman's net caught up in a draft
Suicidal monkey hanging on the raft
Detrimental can in the back of a truck
Ask for directions and you're out of luck
Silver tongued artist with the tarnish blues
Road hockey hitcher with nothing to lose
Cremated man in a brown ashtray
You can't hit a note when you try to play
Givin us directions
Seven plain selections
Liquid mind corrections
I'm like damn
Givin us directions
Don't ask for no dollar from me
My girl ain't got no money neither
So just leave us alone
I'm like damn
version 3:
from Dusk Segment (October 2nd 2001) (as "I Don't Care About This Song (Afternoon)") (4:07)
I'm like damn, yeah
Sheddin sweat bullets like a sawed-off gun
Flying off walls in a room of one
Peelin off plaster from my ceiling fan
Toothpick wound in the middle of my hand
Limp wet dollar layin down in a glass
Filter smokin killer's jumpin on my ass
Broken record rockin from five to nine
With a burnt-out jimmy workin for the wine
Yeah givin us directions
Seven plain selections
Liquid mind corrections
I'm like damn
Semaphore junkies wavin plastic flags
Wake of confusion in my sleepin bag
Blue dye runnin down the side of his face
Well I want a whiskey sour with a shot of mace
Corporate disco on the side of the street
Dusty gray bones looking for the meat
Salivate your life on the side of the ditches
While your Frankenstein monster's pickin at his stitches
Givin us directions, yeah
Seven plain selections
Liquid mind corrections
I'm like damn
Yeah, bust it
Takin it down, so
Fisherman's net caught up in a draft
Suicidal monkey hanging on the raft
Detrimental can in the back of a truck
Where you ask for directions and you're out of luck
Silver tongued artist with the tarnish blues
Road hockey hitcher with nothin to lose
Cremated man in a brown ashtray
You can't hit a note when you try to play
Sheddin sweat bullets like a sawed-off gun
Flying off walls in a room of one
Peelin off plaster from my ceiling fan
Toothpick wound in the middle of my hand
Limp wet dollar layin down in a glass
Filter smokin killer's jumpin on my ass
Broken record rockin from five to nine
With a burnt-out jimmy workin for the wine
Yeah givin us directions
Seven plain selections
Liquid mind corrections
I'm like damn
Semaphore junkies wavin plastic flags
Wake of confusion in my sleepin bag
Blue dye runnin down the side of his face
Well I want a whiskey sour with a shot of mace
Corporate disco on the side of the street
Dusty gray bones looking for the meat
Salivate your life on the side of the ditches
While your Frankenstein monster's pickin at his stitches
Givin us directions, yeah
Seven plain selections
Liquid mind corrections
I'm like damn
Yeah, bust it
Takin it down, so
Fisherman's net caught up in a draft
Suicidal monkey hanging on the raft
Detrimental can in the back of a truck
Where you ask for directions and you're out of luck
Silver tongued artist with the tarnish blues
Road hockey hitcher with nothin to lose
Cremated man in a brown ashtray
You can't hit a note when you try to play
version 4:
from Dustpan Ballads of the Total Stoned Model Citizen (October 22nd 2001) (as "I'm The Guy Your Mother Hates") (3:28)
Like it
Shedding sweat bullets like a sawed off gun
Flying off walls in a room of one
Peeling off plaster from my ceiling fan
Toothpick wound in the middle of my hand
Limp wet dollar laying down in a glass
With a filter smoking killer jumping on my ass
Broken record rocking from five to nine
With a burnt out jimmy working for the wine
Giving us directions
Seven plain selections
Liquid mind corrections I'm like damn
I'm like damn
I'm like damn
Fishermen's net caught up in a draft
Suicidal monkey hanging on the raft
Detrimental can in the back of a truck
Where you ask for directions and you're out of luck
Silver tongued artist with the tarnish blues
Road hockey hitcher with nothing to lose
Cremated man in a brown ashtray
You can't hit a note when you try to play
Giving us directions
Seven plain selections
Liquid mind corrections
I'm like damn, I'm like damn, I'm like damn, I'm like damn...
DAMN!
Whoa rock it
Look at me, I'm the guy your mother hates, and that's okay
Shedding sweat bullets like a sawed off gun
Flying off walls in a room of one
Peeling off plaster from my ceiling fan
Toothpick wound in the middle of my hand
Limp wet dollar laying down in a glass
With a filter smoking killer jumping on my ass
Broken record rocking from five to nine
With a burnt out jimmy working for the wine
Giving us directions
Seven plain selections
Liquid mind corrections I'm like damn
I'm like damn
I'm like damn
Fishermen's net caught up in a draft
Suicidal monkey hanging on the raft
Detrimental can in the back of a truck
Where you ask for directions and you're out of luck
Silver tongued artist with the tarnish blues
Road hockey hitcher with nothing to lose
Cremated man in a brown ashtray
You can't hit a note when you try to play
Giving us directions
Seven plain selections
Liquid mind corrections
I'm like damn, I'm like damn, I'm like damn, I'm like damn...
DAMN!
Whoa rock it
Look at me, I'm the guy your mother hates, and that's okay
never performed live