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Handcuff County

by Ryan M. Brewer

/
1.
I had a dream I was indicted, so “invited” is not the right word there. I had to go before the Congress, where I’d say “On this book, I swear... To tell that bitter truth and not bend it like the rules the way you do.” I said “In truth I can’t be bothered with the kind of thoughts that foster a will to lie. So if you’re worried ‘bout dishonesty, well, then honestly - you’ve got the wrong guy!” I’ll tell that bitter truth and not bend it like the rules the way you do. I’ll tell that bitter truth, and not bend it like the rules because... I don’t know which way I would spin it. I can’t see shit unless I’m in it. I’ll build you your case, just give me the mic and get out of my way! Here’s that bitter truth... all punched up and pretty - just for you!
2.
I finished off a crowd of townies, deep in Handcuff County - I used to live a mile on up the road. The road that took my far enough, where I forgot that our handcuffs were whores - They get around around here. The reverb was intoxicating and the beer was cold. I’d been sweating bullets like a man on death row - Slinging songs in the summertime sun and swearing they were true. But they weren’t true. No, they weren’t true. And no one knew - no one but you. Flowers bloom in springtime - by the summer they’re on fire. Spreading out their petals - all easy on the eyes. I’m a lover, not a fighter. These days - I choose “flight”. So I was flying on a country road. I was high and all alone. It felt like dying when the sirens start’d crying. But they weren’t true. No, they weren’t true. And no one knew - no one but you. The truth hits hard - a hero ain’t a hero without a foil. I’ll spin this yarn - a heart that’s tuggin’ on your sleeve is a bit between your teeth.
3.
Damn. I feel old today. You know it had to be cold today - The kind of cold that makes your bones feel like concrete. They swell and crack under pressure. There ain’t no slack in a midwestern Bible Belt - It’ll pull your pants down if you let it. At 3am, she texts “You up? The county sheriff picked him up. I know I said he was mine, but on nights like tonight I’m pretty sure I’m... Pretty sure I’m... pretty sure he’s yours. A chip off the old block - and yeah - I know it’s the one that I knocked off... The night I hit you and lost you both. I know it’s been a while since you heard from me, but I was raised to rub a little dirt on it. A whiskey mud-hut ain’t no place to raise a son. At 3am, it gets me up. I spill the beans and all my guts... To a halo’d face that smiles like grace in the dark of a sinner’s night... And I’m... pretty sure I’m... pretty sure it’s yours. I’m pretty sure I’m... pretty sure I’m yours. They say that being a prophet in your own hometown is rare. I’m here to tell you being a drunk is hard about anywhere! They try to take your freedom and they try to take your glass. They try to take you home before you’ve had your next to last. Now this kid’s out paying interest on the worst bets that I made... Back when I was just a baby out here trying to get laid. I tried to take my trigger finger when I moved away, But I guess I lost it to you in that Russian roulette game... At 3am, they come in waves - dreams of time machines through space... Erase the memory of a face I’m pretty sure I’m... pretty sure is yours.
4.
Some People 03:20
Some people get it wrong on the right side. What’s the point in a point if it ain’t sharpened up like a knife? You dig it in to the skin of the innocent standers-by. Some people get it wrong on the right side. Some people get it right from the wrong priest. So worried ‘bout church on Sunday - forget to love “the least”. How many could you feed for the price of just one Jesus-piece? Some people get it right from the wrong priest. 4 It takes a clear glass of water to make a meal of a bitter pill. A spoon full of honey goes plenty further than a glass of poison ever will. This whiskey’s taking on water. Ice melts while the world burns. My thoughts get heavy on my spotter. That’s when the pen clicks and the page turns - put the wrong spin on the right words. Just a white guy trying to make art, when it’s said and done. Could any of this mean anything to anyone? Some people can’t afford a rearview mirror. Eyes peeled on the fast-lane. Gotta stare just to steer in fear. Life comes from the windshield, keep the mouths fed and the tank filled. Some people can’t afford a rearview mirror. It takes a clear glass of water to make a meal of a bitter pill. A spoon full of honey goes plenty further than a glass of poison ever will.
5.
I’ve got a beer-bong budget, baby. I’ve got champagne tongue. They say that the Lady is blind but - truth is - she’s blind drunk. Mother, may I have some more? “No. You’ll live with what you’ve got.” Mother, man can’t live alone on a piss-pot and a cot. “You should have thought of that before you got caught. We’re making money off you now and it’s a lot!” I’ve got a beer-bong budget, baby. I’ve got champagne tongue. They say that the Lady is blind but - truth is - she’s blind drunk. “You don’t have a clue what I’d give to be you.” You’ve got your finger on the trigger - I can’t move. “Oh, yeah. I’m playing my part - But it’s a wonder I can walk in this fetish fucking cloth. Tell me, how can I know truth with this blindfold draped across my eyes? This disguise... I see your bullshit, baby boy, and raise you mine!” I’ve got a beer-bong budget, baby. I’ve got champagne tongue. They say that the Lady is blind but - truth is - she’s blind drunk. Come along, come along now! You can get it for a song now! You know two rights make a wrong, now! Everybody wins when... We all agree it’s either black or it’s white. Just pray no blunder under cover of night! I’ve got a beer-bong budget, baby. I’ve got champagne tongue. They say that the Lady is blind but - truth is - she’s blind drunk.
6.
Fightin’ and fussin’, squawlin’ and cussin’. Oil and water, rain and rust. Tell God to trickle on down - meet me in the alley. Rain falls hard on the mountain top, but we’re still bone dry in the valley. Rags to riches. Studs and bitches. Cats and dogs - sticks, stones and stitches. Tell God to jump the gate - meet me underneath the interstate. Rainwater runs under the bridge - the tide rises everyday. I’ll climb Jacob’s ladder. I never wanted to write you of - I didn’t want to give up but here we are! You never come when I cat-call. Give us one of your prat falls, here we are! Barkin’ and bitin’, hauntin’ and hidin’. Ghosts and corpses, coal and diamonds. Tell God to jump the gap - get inside me a swim a lap. Rain water drippin’ down my eyes - baptized by the blue skies. I’ll climb Jacob’s ladder.
7.
Now that the bars are all empty and cards aren’t swiped or inserted - They’re locked in the dark of purses and wallets. Whatever you call it, this thing’s got me shook to me core. I’ll keep writing, though nobody’s listening but you and the dogs. And no matter how true the lyrics those two remain aggressively unmoved. Life, after all, can’t be fueled by applause in a room full of drunks When the drunks are all home wringing hands. Cancel your plans for binging “Sopranos” and learning piano. I want to play you a song and you don’t have to sing along. Now that the clocks are all torn from the walls, The towers that we’ve built seem to shiver. The rivers still run on in silence. Our love is more dust of divine than straight science. Calling all cars! All the kids we had left inside of our chests Have all punched their cards. Now something is missing. And nobody’s listening but you... And God. No matter how hopeful the lyrics - My soul remains, unfortunately, unmoved. Life, after all, can’t be fueled by applause in a room full of drunks When the drunks are all home washing hands. Cancel your plans for live-streaming house-shows... And live yeast for sourdough... For binging “Sopranos” and learning piano. I want to play you a song and you don’t have to sing along.
8.
Alkaline 03:34
Burn a cross in the church yard. Pull the bells from the tower. Drain the gas from the old cars. Rob the clock of his hours. Steal the voice from the singer. Blow the cover of the ringer. Take the sting out of the winter. Snatch the soul from the sinner And wash it in the rain, the acid rain. The acid rain. Burn a teacher in the schoolyard. Pull the pages from the books. Dump the coal from the train car. Rob the model of his sweet, sweet looks. Steal the sugar from the baker. Blow the cover of the faker. Take the sting out of the hater. Snatch the script from the seder. Sing it in the rain, the acid rain. The acid rain. For all of our trying... for all of our hopes... for all of our fears... The Gods are all crying on the seeds we sow with alkaline tears...

credits

released October 18, 2023

Written by Ryan M. Brewer
Arrangements by Ryan M. Brewer and Nick Bullock
Produced & Engineered by Nick Bullock at The Dog House Studio
Mixed by Nick Bullock at Freda Recording
Mastered by Adam Grover at Sterling Sound

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Ryan M. Brewer Alexandria, Indiana

A singer/songwriter by trade, Ryan M. Brewer is more accurately described as a traveling musical storyteller. Having always placed the primary importance on lyricism, his songs tend to float effortlessly between genres...each one falling precisely where it needs to in order to most accurately tell the story. And that's all that matters - songs and stories. ... more

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