Pabst Ribbon Blues

– Lyrics By Metric, for performance with Easy Goin’ & Anne Bonny, DPW Talent Show 2007

Got into Gerlach the last week of July
The dust so thick it makes a grown man cry
Dropped all my shit in trailer thirteen
The guys were crusty and the girls were mean
Ain’t got my bearings– I got no socks and no shoes
Can I bum a smoke? I got those Pabst Ribbon Blues

Damn cigarette’s burned a hole in my shirt
Spent the whole day pounding stakes in the dirt
Been tyin’ fence ’til my fingers are raw
Got so damn thirsty there oughta be a law
I’m drinkin’ cans of beer by ones and by twos
But I ain’t got no whiskey– I got those Pabst Ribbon Blues

Heineken? Heineken? Fuck that shit!
PABST BLUE RIBBON!

Breakfast at Bruno’s I can’t find a seat
Locals are serving up mystery meat
Down on the playa the whole thing’s a mess
It’s Ladies’ Night and I can’t find a dress
At least in this place you don’t pay no union dues
They can pay me in beer– I got those Pabst Ribbon Blues

Down in the ghetto I’m setting up camp
My mouth is dry and my socks are damp
My boots are holey that’s no sacrament
I don’t know where my girlfriend went
The gate is open– the City’s filling with yahoos
This shit’s way too blinky– I got those Pabst Ribbon Blues

Could drink an Anchor or some microbrew
I know that Guinness is good for you
Bud Coors Hamms Schlitz as long as it’s free
But Pabst Blue Ribbon’s the beer for me

It’s Tuesday morning the lunar eclipse
I bring a cold can of beer to my lips
I turn around and the Man is aflame
Surely there’s some asshat to blame
There goes my day off– I think I’m on three crews
But the event must go on– I got those Pabst Ribbon Blues

The morning meeting they’re handing out shwag
My forehead’s sporting a drunk Sharpie tag
Don’t mean to heckle I don’t mean to brag
But I just got me a new Ranger flag
They’re lookin’ for me– they’d like to give me a bruise
Gimme some conflict resolution– I got those Pabst Ribbon Blues

Exodus time all the hippies must flee
Got weeks of mooping in front of me
Couches are burning the dunes are waist high
I close my eyes all I see is the playa
Walkin’ the line sweep with shovels and rakes
We’ll pass inspection for everyone’s sakes
Back at the Crack Rock we’re all out of drugs
Ask where the weed went and everyone shrugs
Snow on the Granites– it’s time for me to cruise
But I’ll be back next year to drown those Pabst Ribbon Blues

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