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Talking Dogs & Atom Bombs

by Darrin Bradbury

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If my dog could talk he would probably say “Get off your ass, you’ve spent too much time on the couch today” And if the cat could speak, you know she wouldn’t say a word But it’s what’s left unsaid that always seems to hurt What if the weatherman said it’s gonna rain till it stops It may rain a little, it may rain a lot So you oughta do whatever you’re gonna do And if it’s meant to be, all your silly dreams will come true The microwave and the atom bomb are distant cousins My popcorn’s gone On New Year’s Eve, we’ll sing Auld Lang Syne And we’ll drop the ball like we do every time What if the weatherman said it’s gonna rain till it stops It may rain a little, it may rain a lot So you oughta do whatever you’re gonna do And if it’s meant to be, all your silly dreams will come true When the going gets tough, they say the tough it gets going But the saying never indicates which direction they’re going.
Breakfast 03:06
I sit at the kitchen and stare out the window at two squirrels running through the yard I presume them both lovers, chasing after each other Though chances are, they are not Then the one squirrel turns its head and looks me dead in the eye As a hawk swoops down, lifts the other off the ground And we both wave Juliet goodbye. On the kitchen table, there’s a pile of junk mail I pretend they’re postcards from exotic lands This one’s from Howie, and he sent it from Maui Said we should take the time to refinance Then the skim milk pours down all over Cerealtown, for I am the god of Cerealtown And the clusters unclust, and the bunches combust And all of god’s oat children drowned. See it is what it is, since it was what it was Stains on the grain made by coffee cups Kinda looks like Saturn, or a Death Star With the knot in the wood and such. Well the telephone rings, though it doesn’t really ring These days it’s just a figure of speech It beeps and it flashes, and it sonically harasses all the thoughts that I’d really like to keep But you call just to say that you hope I’m okay And quite frankly, I don’t know what you mean.
Well the room had gone quiet, all the cocaine was gone Just a few worn out extras hanging out on the lawn One reached in his pocket, he swore he had change There’s a few new faces, but hell’s more or less the same Passed out on the carpet, flea-bitten and stoned We all came here together just to sleep here alone Johnny awoke at the sound of the train It creeps past the window, and hell’s more or less the same There’s this frightened dog, yeah, he ran up the stairs Just to bark at someone that he knew wasn’t there You know the cat ate the trash but the dog took the blame They’re both dead now, and hell’s more or less the same So the cops they came in, they wouldn’t say for what So we all just assumed what the other had done Then the picture cried out, I swear I’ve been framed They left the nail in the wall, but hell’s more or less the same There’s this actress on the roof, to the chimney she’s tied Auditioning for the role of Frankenstein’s bride Lightning struck, her hair turned to gray She’s still waiting for the callback, but hell’s more or less the same Well I’d leave if I could but the back door is locked Now I wouldn’t know what to do even if it’s not I’ll call you sometime when the dude finds the change We’re under new ownership but hell’s more or less the same
If you close your eyes, you can travel through time Just pick anywhere that you like in your mind Running through the woods with a childhood dog A hand that you held, the hand that you loved So I close my eyes and I walk with you But the trouble with time is you can take a wrong step End up somewhere you tried to forget A broken bone or a heart that’s bruised Sometimes I walk through the bad just to walk with you So I close my eyes and I walk too far Turn around and wonder where you are So I woke up this morning and I got out of bed Tripped on my pants and fell on my head Found myself in 1992 Guess if I just keep walking one day I’ll find you
Strange Bird 01:17
There was this strange bird out on the wire A peculiar bird, no he couldn’t fly He snuck through the antenna of my RCA TV And out the mouth of Walter Cronkite I said, “Why’d you come here?” He said “Coca-Cola, Judas Priest, and Captain Crunch” Then the strange bird put on this strange hat So I showed him to the door and I wished him luck I said, “Where you goin’?” He said, “Algiers, to find Dwight Yoakam, and crack cocaine” Then the strange bird tipped his strange hat And walked off singing in the rain Doo, doo doo, doo doo doo doo…..
Nothing Much 02:25
I been sitting in a hurricane like a notebook left in the rain Waiting for the medicine to ease my pain, sitting in a hurricane Just staring at this loaf of bread, beating a horse that’s already dead Trying to remember what you never said, staring at this loaf of bread Nothing much, nothing much If you ask me what I’m up to Nothing much Just waiting for the ink to dry, teaching this fish how to fly Staring at a picture of a piece of pie, waiting for the ink to dry If you could see what’s in my brain, you’d probably label me insane Pull out my teeth and have me detained, if you could see what’s in my brain Nothing much, nothing much If you ask me what I’m up to Nothing much So I’ll keep talking on banana phones trying to write a decent song Tearing up the pages of a Rolling Stone, talking on banana phones Nothing much, nothing much If you ask me what I’m up to Nothing much
The American Life is French fries, flags, and hot dogs Decorative explosions on mutually agreed upon days In the cold 4th quarter, the family flocks to the shopping mall ‘Cause in America, we buy our blues away You get the same Big Mac here that you get in Tacoma, Washington You get the same Big Mac under the stars in Santa Fe You get the same Big Mac out on vacation at the Hoover Dam You get the same Big Mac right here if you just stay and watch it on TV The American Life is franchised fear and cow milk The American Life is the presumption that people are dumb The American Life is fried chicken taking a political stance It’s a church built like a stadium So God bless your ignorance Guess we are what we seem The toothless attendant behind the Texaco counter Has the saddest brown eyes that I have ever seen Doo, doo doo doo doo doo…
You’ve got a heart that’s heavy like a suitcase at the airport that you wish you could leave behind And every thought in your head is a piece of stale bread on the kitchen counter of your life You catch yourself in the mirror trying to stand up straight You exhale, your shoulders, they fold And every song that you sing faintly rings of a story you’ve already told But this too shall pass Albeit like a kidney stone This too shall pass Like a freight train riding through the snow This too shall pass, so slow, it don’t seem steady Sadness it don’t leave you till its ready I had a dream last night that I lost all my teeth and I was falling down a bottomless well I awoke in fright in the middle of the night What it meant yeah I couldn’t tell So I went to the kitchen to make some coffee The whole house it started to shake A hole cracked in the floor and I fell once more and realized I wasn’t awake But this too shall pass Thought it may feel like a double dream This too shall pass Don’t you pay no mind to what it means This too shall pass, so slow, so steady Sadness it don’t leave you, sadness it don’t leave you Sadness it don’t leave you till it’s ready
Motel room, motel room, you smell like Lysol and sex The sex was not mine, I’m just sitting here watching the TV set Afraid to go under the covers, for what lies beneath But I supposed that’s an apropos metaphor for me Motel room, motel room, shame is the name of our game Whether you’re flipping tricks on a mattress or taking a ? Fame is coming, I can hear her moan through the walls Took her a while to get there but I suppose that’s true for us all. Motel room, motel room, Motel room, motel room Motel room, motel room, Motel room, motel room Motel room, motel room, Motel room, motel room
You can climb to the highest cliff Take your shoes off and jump from it Park your car at the ocean at night Leave your shoes on and wait for high tide Oh, so many ways to die Sit around and wait for old age Or take a cue from Hemingway’s page Close all the window and make a frozen pizza Leave the oven door open, never eat the pizza Oh, so many ways to die You can do what you want, do what you will Oh sweet mama, it’s your time to kill Oh, oh, so many ways to die Fight like hell just to live through the war To slip on milk at the grocery store Shot in the back by Billy the Kid Or eat them pills like Anna Nicole Smith There’s just so many ways to die There’s just so many ways…
Dallas 1963 02:13
I had a dream, it was a scary dream I found myself in Dallas November 1963 Watching the man from Massachusetts with his beautiful bride In the back of a sweet ass Cadillac, going for a ride Three shots rang out and that’s when I dropped the gun And bolted down three flights of stairs and cried out, “My god, what have I done?” That’s when I awoke, thinking I had shot the president And she said, “Wait a minute, baby, you know you’re not Lee Harvey Oswald? I know it seems real but it’s just a bad, bad dream Why don’t you go out and sit on the front porch And I can make us some coffee, we can talk about what it means.”


released September 20, 2019

Produced by Kenneth Pattengale.
Recorded at Trace Horse Studio, Nashville, TN.
Engineered and mixed by Matt Ross-Spang.
Additional engineering by Preston Cochran and Scott Prudhoe.
Mastered by Kim Rosen, Knack Mastering, Ringwood, NJ.
Artwork by Henry Glovinsky.

Darrin Bradbury: vocals, acoustic guitar
Jeremy Ivey: bass, piano
Alex Muñoz: electric guitar, baritone
electric guitar,lap steel,vocals
Dillon Napier: drums
Kenneth Pattengale: mellotron, vocals
Margo Price: vocals on “The Trouble with Time”

All songs by Darrin Bradbury (Chuck FN Tastic Music, BMI), except “Nothing Much,” written by Jeremy Ivey (Fisheye Publishing (SESAC)/ BMG), and “So Many Ways to Die (Frozen Pizza),” written by Darrin Bradbury (Chuck FN Tastic Music, BMI) and Jeremy Ivey (Fisheye Publishing (SESAC)/ BMG).

Kenneth Pattengale and Jeremy Ivey appear
courtesy of ANTI.

This album is a still life of a still life, it’s the conversations you have with yourself in the morning over coffee, it’s intended to be the soundtrack of a day filled with nothing in particular and everything all at the same time - I’d like to thank my family/friends/team & dogs for the unconditional encouragement & constant inspiration to keep traveling down this weird & wild path.

And to all the weirdos out there who listen to it, it means the world to me.


all rights reserved



Darrin Bradbury

Songster living in East Nashville.

Folk Satirist/No Point Storyteller

Travels Alot.

"Redneck Noir"- No Depression Magazine

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