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Mark Knopfler: Shangri-La

 A l b u m   D e t a i l s


Label: Mercury Records
Released: 1990
Time:
 66:22
Category: Pop/Rock
Producer(s): See Artists ...
Rating: *******... (7/10)
Media type: CD
Web address: www.mark-knopfler.co.uk
Appears with: Dire Straits
Purchase date: 2006.05.12
Price in €: 17,99



 S o n g s ,   T r a c k s


[1] 5.15 A.M. (M.Knopfler) - 5:54
[2] Boom, Like That (M.Knopfler) - 5:49
[3] Sucker Row (M.Knopfler) - 4:56
[4] The Trawlerman's Song (M.Knopfler) - 5:02
[5] Back to Tupelo (M.Knopfler) - 4:31
[6] Our Shangri-La (M.Knopfler) - 5:41
[7] Everybody Pays (M.Knopfler) - 5:24
[8] Song for Sonny Liston (M.Knopfler) - 5:06
[9] Whoop De Doo (M.Knopfler) - 3:53
[10] Postcards from Paraguay (M.Knopfler) - 4:07
[11] All That Matters (M.Knopfler) - 3:08
[12] Stand Up Guy (M.Knopfler) - 4:32
[13] Donegan's Gone (M.Knopfler) - 3:05
[14] Don't Crash the Ambulance (M.Knopfler) - 5:06

 A r t i s t s ,   P e r s o n n e l


Mark Knopfler - Acoustic & Electricl Guitar, Vocals, Producer, Spanish & Bottleneck Guitar, Fender Stratocaster, Fender Telecaster

Richard Bennett - Acoustic, Electric & Steel Guitar, Tiple, Fender Stratocaster, Pensa-Suhr Custom
Jim Cox - Organ, Harmonica, Piano, Organ (Hammond), Melodica
Guy Fletcher - Organ, Piano, Harmonium, Hammond B3 Organ, Clavinet, Engineer, Fender Rhodes, Wurlitzer
Paul Franklin - Pedal Steel
Chad Cromwell - Percussion, Drums
Glenn Worf - Bass, Upright Bass

Chuck Ainlay - Producer, Engineer
Rupert Coulson - Assistant Engineer
Bob Ludwig - Mastering

 C o m m e n t s ,   N o t e s

2004 CD Warner Bros. 48858
2004 LP Universal/Mercury 9867262
2006 CD Universal International 986771
2006 LP Warner Bros / Ada 48858

The fourth solo excursion from acclaimed singer-songwriter-guitarist Mark Knopfler, Shangri-La is perhaps his most rocking album since his halcyon days in Dire Straits. A four- time Grammy winner who has sold some 110 million albums worldwide with that group and solo — and whose signature guitar sound, instantly recognizable vocals and smart lyrics have made him one of rock's most admired artists — Knopfler offers an idyllic earthly refuge for the sophisticated rock fan with Shangri-La.



Mark Knopfler isn't afraid to drop names. The heavyweight Cassius Clay laid low, the man who made burgers and fries into big business, the kings of rock & roll and skiffle are among the motley assortment who pass through Knopfler's fourth solo album. Recorded in Malibu with a tight crew of steadfast Knopfler sidemen, Shangri-La (the title comes from the studio where the entire set was recorded) chronicles the foibles of the acclaimed and the adrift, all delivered with the nonchalant grace that has marked Knopfler's music since Dire Straits emerged in the late '70s. Seven of album's 14 originals clock in at between five and seven minutes. That's Knopfler in a nutshell--don't rush things, but don't loose the thread, either. As a songwriter, Knopfler has a storyteller's eye for minutiae, which he delivers with practiced nuance. He overreaches here and there ("Song for Sonny Liston" fails to capture the pathos of the menacing fighter), but also pulls off a few career highlights (the understated crime-drama opener "5.15 a.m.").

Steve Stolder - Amazon.com



Shangri-La präsentiert uns wieder einmal das Team von Knopfler mit dem Produzenten Chuck Ainlay. Sie feiern Americana auf ihre robuste Art mit Country, Blues und einem Schuss Easy Listening. Der Sound wirkt zurückhaltend mit Ausnahme des Elektro-Blues Stückes "Song for Sonny Listen", das für ein wenig Schlagkraft sorgt. Knopflers Sound scheint ganz unter dem mächtigen Einfluss von JJ Cale zu stehen und dies nirgendwo mehr als bei "Boom, Like That", einem groovigen Countrystück mit sanftem, lässigem Gesang. Die Texte sind wie immer nicht allzu ernst zu nehmen, sie erzählen von absonderlichen Vorstellungen wie "I stuck a couple of air-craft carriers up his ass" (‘Ich steckte ihm einige Flugzeugträger in den Arsch’), zu hören bei dem von Mariachi-Klängen begleiteten "Don't Crash the Ambulance", ein ironischer Song, der an Grenze zu Mexiko anzusiedeln ist. Knopflers Stil mag seit seinen Tagen bei Dire Straits ein wenig sanfter geworden sein, aber das kann man nur begrüßen, wenn man an die aufgeplusterten Synthesizer-Klänge der letzten Phase dieser Band denkt. Shangri-La präsentiert Knopfler, der seine Cowboyträume lebt, und das scheint sein Gespür für gute Musik so frisch zu erhalten wie in den guten alten Zeiten.

Steve Beefmark - Amazon.de



Shangri-La, Mark Knopfler's fourth solo release and his first since breaking his collarbone, shoulder, and seven ribs in a motorcycle crash in March 2003, finds the eternally laid-back Dire Straits frontman in familiar territory. Instead of constructing a song cycle about his brush with mortality - the wry "Don't Crash the Ambulance" aside - he uses his warm baritone and effortless guitar work to ruminate on everything from the plight of the modern fisherman - the beautiful and rustic "Trawlerman's Song" - to the entrepreneurial skills of McDonald's founder Ray Kroc ("Boom, Like That"). Knopfler has more or less abandoned the British folk and Celtic-influenced pop that began to surface on his previous two recordings, opting instead for a full-blown yet quiet and considerate collection of country-folk ballads and bluesy, midtempo dirges that revel in their uncharacteristic sparseness - one of the better examples of the latter is the gutsy, backwoods boxing tale "Song for Sonny Liston." Knopfler spent seven months away from the guitar in physiotherapy, but his melancholic slow-burn tone is as peat-smoked as ever, and his penchant for wrapping Americana-gothic folk around subjects that are uniquely English - colliers, cockneys, the one-armed bandit man who meets his maker in the atmospheric opener, "5:15 A.M." - is evident throughout. Dynamically, Shangri-La loses steam about three-quarters of the way through - the cringe-inducing "Whoop De Doo" and the sweet but dull "All That Matters" bring things to a sleepy halt -- but Knopfler fans and lovers of Chet Atkins, Gordon Lightfoot, and J.J. Cale, as well as late-night poker players and early risers with an acerbic streak, will find much to love here.

James Christopher Monger - All Music Guide



On his fourth solo outing, Mark Knopfler seems to have gotten something of an energy transfusion, making Shangri-La his most straightforwardly rocking effort since the singer-guitarist split from Dire Straits. Given that Knopfler was virtually single-handedly responsible for creating that band's stealthily smoking sound, it's fair that he nods to his past -- most notably on the languid honky-tonk musing "Boom Like That" (an homage of sorts to fast food pioneer Ray Kroc) -- while carving out plenty of the sinewy guitar solos fans have come to expect. On "Song for Sonny Liston," that translates into a surprisingly gnarled electric blues vibe; on the darkly humorous "Don't Crash the Ambulance," it means a foray into mariachi territory. Most of the disc, in keeping with Knopfler's usual M.O., is steeped in the sepia tones of Americana past, from the country tinges that adorn "Back to Tupelo" to the Big Easy inflections of "The Trawlerman's Song." Longtime compatriots like pedal steel player Paul Franklin (who ratchets up the party atmosphere of "Whoop De Doo") and organist Richard Bennett contribute to the disc's overriding warm glow, but it's Knopfler himself who flicks the switch that really illuminates these songs.

David Sprague - Barnes & Noble



Recording information: Shangri-la Studios, Malibu, California.

Mark Knopfler's first excursions outside of Dire Straits were film soundtracks, where his guitar mastery served him well. Starting in the mid-1990s, he embarked on a proper post-Straits solo career. By the time of 2004's SHANGRI-LA, Knopfler had almost entirely left behind the expansive instrumental textures of his former band in favor of a more straight-ahead singer/songwriter approach, which works wonderfully here. Knopfler keeps things low-key throughout most of SHANGRI-LA, with quietly intoned, often drolly sardonic lyrics, supple finger-picked guitar lines, and songs full of subtly crafted surprises.

There's a wealth of unusual topics on offer here; "Boom, Like That" is a first-person monologue by Knopfler in the voice of Ray Kroc, the man behind the McDonald's fast-food empire. The bluesy "Song for Sonny Liston" chronicles the famed boxer's brushes with the underworld. "Donegan's Gone" laments the passing of British folk/skiffle pioneer Lonnie Donegan, a key influence on Knopfler and scores of other British rockers. Departing from the more folk-oriented sound of its predecessor, THE RAGPICKER'S DREAM, SHANGRI-LA more fully develops the detail-oriented, irony-laced songwriting style Knopfler first hinted at in Dire Straits tunes like "Money for Nothing."



Rolling Stone (p.102) - 3 1/2 stars out of 5 - "Mark Knopfler has grown into one of rock's more mature and sharp-eyed writers....[The album] mixes sunniness and darkness in artful ways."

Mojo (p.96) - 3 stars out of 5 - "There is genius in here....It also serves up three beguiling gasps of Tyne/Delta blues bewitchery."



Mark Knopfler has grown into one of rock's more mature and sharp-eyed writers; in an Ashlee Simpson world, he takes pages from Philip Roth and Joan Didion -- and still plays the guitar far better than any of the above. Shangri-La -- recorded in the famed Malibu studio of the same name that was once home to Bob Dylan and the Band, and featuring the same musicians who shined on 2000's Sailing to Philadelphia and 2002's ,I>The Ragpicker's Dream -- mixes sunniness and darkness in artful ways. Knopfler has crafted a short-story collection of tales about crime ("Postcards From Paraguay") and punishment ("Everybody Pays"), American icons ("Song for Sonny Liston" and "Back to Tupelo," a non-salute to Col. Tom Parker) and even franchise capitalism ("Boom, Like That" -- the tastiest tune ever inspired by late McDonald's chief Ray Kroc). Though it's less self-consciously epic than a Dire Straits masterpiece such as Making Movies, Shangri-La shows that Knopfler still knows how to super-size his ambitions.

DAVID WILD (Oct 28, 2004) - Rolling Stones
 

 L y r i c s


5:15 AM

5.15 a.m.
snow laying all around
a collier cycles home
from his night shift underground
past the silent pub
primary school, workingmens club
on the road from the pithead
the churchyard packed
with mining dead

then beneath the bridge
he comes to a giant car
a shroud of snow upon the roof
a mark ten jaguar
he thought the man was fast asleep
silent, still and deep
both dead and cold
shot through
with bullet holes

the one armed bandit man
came north to fill his boots
came up from cockneyland
e-type jags and flashy suits
put your money in
pull the levers
watch them spin
cash cows in all the pubs
but he preferred the new nightclubs

nineteen sixty-seven
bandit men in birdcage heaven
la dolce vita, sixty-nine
all new to people of the tyne

who knows who did what
somebody made a call
they said his hands
were in the pot
that he’d been skimming hauls
he picks up the swag
they gaily gave away
drives his giant jag
off to his big pay day

the bandit man
came north to fill his boots
came up from cockneyland
e-type jags and flashy suits
the bandit man
came up the great north road
up to geordieland
to mine
the mother lode

seams blew up or cracked
black diamonds came hard won
generations toiled and hacked
for a pittance and black lung
crushed by tub or stone
together
and alone
how the young and old
paid the price of coal

eighteen sixty-seven
my angel’s gone to heaven
he’ll be happy there
sunlight and sweet clean air

they gather round the glass
tough hewers and crutters
child trappers and putters
the little foals and half-marrows
who pushed
and pulled the barrows
the hod boys
and the rolleywaymen
5.15 a.m.


Boom Like That

i’m going to san bernardino
ring-a-ding-ding
milkshake mixers
that’s my thing, now
these guys bought
a heap of my stuff
and i gotta see a good thing
sure enough, now
or my name’s not kroc
that’s kroc with a ‘k’
like ‘crocodile’
but not spelled that way, now
it’s dog eat dog
rat eat rat
kroc-style
boom, like that

the folks line up
all down the street
and i’m seeing this girl
devour her meat, now
and then i get it, wham
as clear as day
my pulse begins to hammer
and i hear a voice say:
these boys have
got this down
oughtta be a one of these
in every town
these boys have
got the touch
it’s clean as a whistle
and it don’t cost much
wham, bam
you don’t wait long
shake, fries
patty, you’re gone
and how about that
friendly name?
heck, every little thing
oughtta stay the same
or my name’s not kroc
that’s kroc with a ‘k’
like ‘crocodile’
but not spelt that way, now
it’s dog eat dog
rat eat rat
kroc-style
boom, like that

you gentlemen
ought to expand
you’re going to need
a helping hand, now
so, gentlemen
well, what about me?
we’ll make a little
business history, now
or my name’s not kroc
call me ray
like ‘crocodile’
but not spelt that way, now
it’s dog eat dog
rat eat rat
kroc-style
boom, like that

well we build it up
and i buy ‘em out
but, man they made me
grind it out, now
they open up a new place
flipping meat
so i do, too
right across the street
i got the name
i need the town
they sell up in the end
and it all shuts down
sometimes you gotta
be an s.o.b.
you wanna make a dream
reality
competition?
send ‘em south
if they’re gonna drown
put a hose in their mouth
do not pass schoo ‘go’
go straight to hell
i smell that
meat hook smell
or my name’s not kroc
that’s kroc with a ‘k’
like ‘crocodile’
but not spelt that way, now
it’s dog eat dog
rat eat rat
kroc-style
boom, like that

Sucker Row

somebody’s gotta crack
a whip around here
who’s minding the store?
shake it up sell some beer
what’s your
money maker for?
pay day
we’re packin’ ‘em in
six-gun annie
and buffalo jill
but who’s to say
they’ll be back again
for a refill?
honey, you know the drill
ain’t no left turn
down sleepy time street
you gotta be fast
but you gotta stay loose
thinking
on your feet
slick as grass
through a goose
we gotta
rationalise
the payroll
is giving me chills
you and me’s
getting organised
it’s kill or be killed
honey, you know the drill

well they can all look down
on sucker row
but they all forget
the tallest trees
from acorns grow
though they ain’t yet
i never look down
on a sucker stake
they all pay the bills
i never gave a sucker
an even break
and i never will

a beautiful vision
keeps coming to me
i see
a miracle mile
flying in
for free
service
with a smile
high rollers
fancy hotels
big time singers
topping the bill
you gotta have a feel
for the stuff that sells
call it a skill
honey, you know the drill
somebody’s gotta crack
a whip around here
who’s
minding the store?
shake it up
sell some beer
money walking
through the door
annie’s arriving
at a dangerous age
don’t you
go getting ill
get another woman
up in the cage
who ain’t over the hill
honey, you know the drill

  

The Trawlerman's Song

we’re taking on water
diesel and stores
laying up awhile
before i’m back on board
they’re patching her up
to go fishing again
they’re welding her rudder
scrubbing her keel
scars on her belly
need time to heal
in the dock
with the trawlermen

i know all the people
there’s nobody new
soon we’ll be leaving
with the same old crew
on the green water
the tumbling sea
they ain’t running
like the good old days
time’s just slipping
down the old slipways
in the dock
so dear to me

dark is the night
i need a guiding light
to keep me
from foundering
on the rocks
my only prayer
is just to see you there
at the end
of my wandering
back in the dock

i could use a layoff
getting my strength back
but there’s a loan to pay off
and a few skipjack
so it’s a turnaround
back in the southerly wind
pirates coming in
to steal our gold
you can count yourself lucky
with a profit in the hold
in the dock
when we come in

dark is the night
i need a guiding light
to keep me
from foundering
on the rocks
my only prayer
is just to see you there
at the end
of my wandering
back in the dock


Back to Tupelo

around the time of ‘clambake’
movie number twenty-five
you and the lying dutchman
are still in overdrive
you’re as strong as when you started
mississippi in your soul
you can still be marlon brando
and the king of rock and roll

it isn’t just the records
no, you must have hollywood
the songs alone are not enough
that much is understood
you’ll soon be back in memphis
maybe then you’ll know what to do
the storylines they’re giving you
are just not ringing true

oh, it’s a ways to go
back to tupelo

when you’re young and beautiful
your dreams are all ideals
later on it’s not the same
lord, everything is real
sixteen hundred miles of highway
roll back to the truth
and a song to give your mother
in your first recording booth

around the time of ‘clambake’
that old dream’s still rolling on
sometimes there’ll be the feeling
things are going wrong
the morning star is fading
lord, the mississippi’s cold
you can still be marlon brando
and the king of rock and roll

but it’s a ways to go
back to tupelo


Our Shangri-La

SHANGRI-LA

It's the end of a perfect day for all the surfer boys and girls
the sun's dropping down in the bay and falling off the world
there's a diamond in the sky, our evening star in our shangri-la

get that fire burning strong right here and right now
It's here and then it's gone, there's no secret anyhow.
We may never love again to the music of guitars in our shangri-la


Tonight your beauty burns into my memory
the wheel of heaven turns above us endlessly
this is all the heaven we got, right here where we are in our shangri-la.


Tonight your beauty burns into my memory
the wheel of heaven turns above us endlessly
this is all the heaven we got, right here where we are in our shangri-la.
in our shangri-la
in our shangri-la


Everybody Pays

i got shot off my horse
so what? i’m up again
and playing
in one of these
big saloons on main
you can come up here
take a look
around these sinners’ dens
you’re only ever going to find
one or two real games
nobody’s driving
me underground
not yet anyway
but either on the strip
or on the edge of town
everybody pays
everybody pays to play

yeah, you ought to stay
right where you are
in sawdust land
it’s probably the
safest place to be
with your
greasy little pork pies
and your shoestring hands
it makes
no difference to me
all those directions
which we never took
to go our different ways
who went and wrote
the oldest story in the book?
everybody pays
everybody pays to play

curl up inside
a boxcar dream
and disappear
with a couple
low roller friends
you were never one
for trouble
so get out of here
i knew the game
was dangerous back then
but nobody’s breezing
through these swinging doors
just ups and walks away
everybody has to leave
some blood here on the floor
everybody pays
everybody pays to play


Song for Sonny

song for sonny liston

so many mouths
to feed on the farm
sonny was the second
to the last one born
his mamma ran away
and his daddy beat him bad
and he grew up wild
good love he never had

he had a left
like henry’s hammer
a right like betty bamalam
rode with the muggers
in the dark and dread
and all them sluggers
went down like lead

well he hung with the hoods
he wouldn’t stroke the fans
but he had dynamite
in both his hands
boom bam
like the slammer door
the bell and the can
and the bodies on the floor

beware the bear’s in town
somebody’s money says
the bear’s going down
yeah, the bear never smiles
sonny’s going down
for miles and miles
sonny’s going down
for miles and miles

the writers didn’t like him
the fight game jocks
with his lowlife backers
and his hands like rocks
they didn’t want to have
a bogey man
they didn’t like him
and he didn’t like them

black cadillac
alligator boots
money in the pockets
of his sharkskin suits
some say the bear
took a flop
they couldn’t believe it
when they saw him drop

he had a left
like henry’s hammer
a right like betty bamalam
rode with the muggers
in the dark and dread
and all them sluggers
went down like lead

joe louis was his hero
he tried to be the same
but a criminal child
wears a ball and chain
so the civil rights people
didn’t want him on the throne
and the hacks and the cops
wouldn’t leave him alone

beware the bear’s in town
somebody’s money says
the bear’s going down
yeah, the bear never smiles
sonny’s going down
for miles and miles
sonny’s going down
for miles and miles

at the foot of his bed
with his feet on the floor
there was dope in his veins
and a pistol on the drawer
there was no investigation
as such
he hated needles
but he knew too much

criss-crossed
on his back
scars from his daddy
like slavery tracks
the second-last child
was the second-last king
never again was it the same
in the ring

he had a left
like henry’s hammer
a right like betty bamalam
rode with the muggers
in the dark and dread
and all them sluggers
went down like lead

they never could be sure
about the day he was born
a motherless child
set to working on the farm
and they never could be sure
about the day he died
the bear was the king
they cast aside

beware the bear’s in town
somebody’s money says
the bear’s going down
yeah, the bear never smiles
sonny’s going down
for miles and miles
sonny’s going down
for miles and miles


Whoop De Doo

if i’m over the moon
it’s because i’m over you
a day at a time
and i’m tickety-boo
i don’t carry on
the way i used to
whoop de doo
whoop de doo

if i’m doing great
it’s because when i get home
i don’t go straight
to my answerphone
and the tears don’t come
the way they used to
whoop de doo
whoop de doo

so many little things
are so much better now
they were only the little things
anyhow

if i’m over the moon
it’s because that’s what i am
funny that once
i used to give a damn
and i’d do anything
in the whole wide world for you
whoop de doo
whoop de doo

anything
anything you’d want me to
whoop de doo
whoop de doo


Postcards From Paraguay

one thing was leading to the next
i bit off more than i could chew
i had the power to sign the cheques
it wasn’t difficult to do
i couldn’t stay and face the music
so many reasons why
i won’t be sending postcards
from paraguay

i robbed a bank full of dinero
a great big mountain of dough
so it was goodbye companero
and cheerio
i couldn’t stay and face the music
so many reasons why
i won’t be sending postcards
from paraguay

i never meant to be a cheater
but there was blood on the wall
i had to steal from peter
to pay what i owed to paul
i couldn’t stay and face the music
so many reasons why
i won’t be sending postcards
from paraguay


All That Matters

my darling girl
my darling girl
you’re all that matters
in this wicked world
all that matters
all that matters
my darling boy
my darling boy
all of my sunshine
and all of my joy
you’re all that matters
all that matters

well, i can’t stop the pain
when it calls
i’m a man
and i can’t stop the rain
when it falls, my darling
who can?

my darling girl
my darling girl
you’re all that matters
in this wicked world
all that matters
all that matters
my darling friend
my darling friend
all we’ve got going
is love in the end
it’s all that matters
all that matters


Stand Up Guy

brew the coffee in a bucket
double straight man and banjo
if you don’t got the snake oil
buster, you don’t got a show
who puts the doh-re-me
in our pockets
keeps the party going on?
it’s the man
who sells the potions
i’m just one who plays the songs
now they generally buys
the bigger size
they usually rub it in
i drank it once, it tasted
like grease and paraffin
it’s mostly alcohol, okay
you can’t deny it’s strong
we was going through the motions
‘til the doctor came along

there stands the bottle
ladies and gentlemen
all these bottles
don’t have to tell you, friends
these days miracles
don’t come falling from the sky
raise your glasses to the doctor
to a stand up guy

when the monkeyshine is flying
and he’s promising the cure
he says the french
for your lovesick blues
la maladie d’amour
he gets the chumps all laughing
but he gets a few to buy
here’s to beefsteak
when you’re hungry
and whiskey when you’re dry
now the band’ll blow their moolah
like sailors gone ashore
now we’re going to west helena
to gamble, drink and whore
let’s you and me
all make whoopee
here’s mud in your eye
here’s to all the gals you ever want
and heaven when you die

there stands the bottle
ladies and gentlemen
all these bottles
don’t have to tell you, friends
these days miracles
don’t come falling from the sky
raise your glasses to the doctor
to a stand up guy

there’s a big cheese with a cigar
been sizing up the show
he wants to get the doctor
pitching on the radio
i will make a switch to guitar
but the rules all still apply
they want to trust somebody
yeah, they want a stand up guy

there stands the bottle
here’s to absent friends
all these bottles
dead soldiers in the end
these days miracles
don’t come falling from the sky
raise your glasses to the doctor
to a stand up guy
to the doctor
a stand up guy


Donegan's Gone

donegan’s gone, lonnie donegan
donegan’s gone
gone, lonnie donegan
donegan’s gone
play that big grand coulee dam
nobody loves like an irishman
gone, lonnie donegan
donegan’s gone

donegan’s gone, lonnie donegan
donegan’s gone
gone, lonnie donegan
donegan’s gone
lord, i’m just a rolling stone
rock my soul i wanna go home
gone, lonnie donegan
donegan’s gone

donegan’s gone, lonnie donegan
donegan’s gone
gone, lonnie donegan
donegan’s gone
stackalee and a gamblin’ man
rock my soul in the bosom of abraham
gone, lonnie donegan
donegan’s gone

donegan’s gone, lonnie donegan
donegan’s gone
gone, lonnie donegan
donegan’s gone
time just goes on rolling by
lord, i feel like i could cry
gone, lonnie donegan
donegan’s gone


Don't Crash The Ambulance

don’t often open up this floor
since i handed in my gun
what all these keys are for
now my tour of duty’s done
you got to know the switches
now you got your turn
watch and learn, junior
watch and learn

now you will get your
trouble spots
here’s one from
down voodoo way
bragged he had me
by the you-know-whats
very funny, you don’t say
the big enchilada
stealing elections
had to go down there
trash collection
got his cojones
on my desk in there
made into a souvenir
set of cufflinks, nice pair
the rest of him’s
someplace up here
sometimes you got to
put a shoulder to the door
not so fast, junior
listen to your pa
here, son
i’m handing over to you
don’t crash the ambulance
whatever you do

what we have here’s
a dung hole place
thought it was fly shit
on the map
fat bastard, ugly face
and the personal crap
you can’t move the barriers
you can’t mess with oil and gas
had to go down there
stick a couple
aircraft carriers
in his ass
fancy dress
medals chest
it’s all in here
for all the gigs
gas mask
bullet-proof vest
all the usual rigs
there’ll be things they missed
they didn’t mention
you’ve even
got a whistle in there
for attracting attention

well, i think you’re gonna
be okay, son
you’ve had the tour, i guess
these two buttons
by the way
this one i hope
you never press
some holy fool, just watch
who’s not like you or me
that one’s the whole
shooting match
right there
it’s the whole shitaree
we don’t forget
who put us here, jack
that’s page one
we talk soft
but carry a big stick
and pack the biggest gun
we don’t like accidents
major or minor
you don’t want yourself
an incident
don’t ever invade china

here, son
i’m handing over to you
don’t crash the ambulance
here, son
i’m handing over to you
don’t crash the ambulance
whatever you do

 M P 3   S a m p l e s


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