"Crackhead Cowboy" genre: Rock
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	A story playing out on the streets of every city
	MP3.com CD: The Spice of Life - buy it! CD: The Spice of Life   Label: LBI Music/Productions Credits: Big Wassabi
	Story Behind the Song Words & music: Gene Hamilton Vocals, guitar: Gene Hamilton Background vocals: Nancy Atlas Keyboards: Paul Gene Guitar: John Blood Bass: Dennis Metzler Drums: Dino Faggen Lyrics You thought you were a cowboy in your baseball hat You think you ride a horse, you ride a subway track You roll into the city like you roll into the range You're looking for some poison just to pacify your brain I said oh no once again A crackhead cowboy without a plan Maybe you'll find some extacy Turn your grey matter into cheese And the angels say: Ain't no way to go, ain't no way to go Ain't no way to go, ain't no way to go Now your synapse snapped, oh yeah man Would you like to collapse now that's a plan Put your hands on your head and your head in your lap When the traffic light changes you can lay on your back Get up doggie, that's your best bet You don't want to drown in a pool of sweat A downtown train could get you there faster Good time to look for a greener pasture, yeah Ain't no way to go, ain't no way to go Ain't no way to go, ain't no way to go Yippy cayay, your body's full throttle But somehow you brain is still stuck in idle Why don't you give your doggie a bone So that noise in your head might leave you alone It looks like the sun is starting to rise But you don't have no shades to cover your eyes Why don't you put your doggie to bed And lift that knife out the top of your head And the angels said: Ain't no way to go, ain't no way to go Ain't no way to go, ain't no way to go You're just a crackhead cowboy in bad condition Rolling down the range on a one way mission A Soho diner could be your next stop Get some home fries, ham and eggs before your body drops So you watch the new rich on their way to work They have things you don't have and sometimes it hurts Now you're looking for an all day spot Where you can chat up some freaks, chop up some rock You're just a crackhead cowboy from a faraway world Rolling down the streets with a pocket of pearls No light in your eyes, your crack's on your lips No rope in your hand or gun on your hip The horses you ride are all underground You call one two three as you rush through the crowd A magazine dances in a gutteral wind It's been six hours since you've seen a friend, yeah

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