One Hundred Dollars.
So, last night Adriana and I went to the Dakota to see a band called One Hundred Dollars. They ROCKED! Country folky but with a great mix of faster songs. The singer sounds a bit like Janis on Me and Bobby Mcgee. But the lyrics are what make them an amazing band. I don't often post lyrics, but I'm doing it here. And I don't know how to cut and don't have seamagic on here yet...so your stuck with it.
Hell's a Place.
Their eyes are scornful and ours'll be black
It we don't get our shit together and get on track
Out from the mountains, away from the west
Rumor has it there's a village where we can rest.
It doen't matter if our love is true, Them biggots have it out for girls like me and you
Their morals rain from that G-d up above.
And according to him Hell's the place for our love.
Thumbs out of Quesnel, through Veder Crossing
Memories harden like the earth beneath this stranger's tires.
They spare us guns of war, then beat us in our homes
convinced our interlocked legs are fuel for fire.
If we don't make it, I'll meet you in hell
where the hot hot heat of our love can swell
Higher than the egoes of righteous men,
and larger than the expanse of this goddamned land
Now six days traveled we just reached Broadview
I couldn't have another trucker's hand run up my thigh
he struggled sluggishly, you took the wheel
His breath cut short by CB radio wire
Don't worry darling bout the fires we'll meet
heaven would have burned up from our hot heat
Don't worry darling it'll all turn out well
We'll get to that village or I'll love you in Hell.
Hell's a Place.
Their eyes are scornful and ours'll be black
It we don't get our shit together and get on track
Out from the mountains, away from the west
Rumor has it there's a village where we can rest.
It doen't matter if our love is true, Them biggots have it out for girls like me and you
Their morals rain from that G-d up above.
And according to him Hell's the place for our love.
Thumbs out of Quesnel, through Veder Crossing
Memories harden like the earth beneath this stranger's tires.
They spare us guns of war, then beat us in our homes
convinced our interlocked legs are fuel for fire.
If we don't make it, I'll meet you in hell
where the hot hot heat of our love can swell
Higher than the egoes of righteous men,
and larger than the expanse of this goddamned land
Now six days traveled we just reached Broadview
I couldn't have another trucker's hand run up my thigh
he struggled sluggishly, you took the wheel
His breath cut short by CB radio wire
Don't worry darling bout the fires we'll meet
heaven would have burned up from our hot heat
Don't worry darling it'll all turn out well
We'll get to that village or I'll love you in Hell.