Pete McDonald: Music

• MP3 short clip, hi-fi play (broadband)
• MP3 short clip, lo-fi play (modem)

The needle dropped on Like a Rolling Stone
Yeah, that’s how I remember my home
Dylan on the wind and I felt my life begin
A crying raging moan

Jocks, brains, and muddy grass stains
Thinking about my mixed up days
Cinnamon Girls and dirty worlds it’s all a youthful haze
Taking on my changeling ways

And I don’t come up smelling like roses
And I don’t expect none from you
I just spend my time on this long jagged line
Breaking down what I already knew

I got generations on my mind
I got bad habits with my time
Baby boomers, beats, and X’s on the streets
Feel like I’m an alien kind

And I’m afraid I love too many things
I’m a puppet on some stranger’s strings
Wasted under cold stars at a backyard wedding bar
Wishing for some gypsy wings

And I don’t come up smelling like roses
And I don’t expect none from you
I just spend my time on this long jagged line
Tracking down what I thought I knew

And day-by-day, I’m confusing my way
Turning me upside down and inside out
And it’s hard to keep things straight, like a rusty iron gate
Hanging on a hinge I feel the weight

Folk, blues, jazz and rock n’ roll
The whole mad swirl takes its toll
I’m pissing in the wind, sorting wholesomeness from sin
Tracking down the ghost of who I’ve been

And I don’t come up smelling like roses
And I don’t expect none from you
I just spend my time on this long jagged line
Breaking down what I thought I knew