SocietyFringePodcast's podcast


Dave and Brian, as the band Society Fringe Players, are psychedelic punk rock opera hillbillies who are using this podcast to roll out their 87 song narrative entitled THE BIG OPERA. They release a new song every Monday morning at 7 ESTand then release a commentary track every Wednesday morning at 7 EST explaining how that song fits into THE BIG OPERA. They're too "Bawmer" for their own good. Reach them on Twitter at @davelinantudsfp and @brilutz9. Yes these are Circle 9 guys.


SocietyFringePodcast's podcast navigateright Episode

77 Westward

WESTWARD In the bed next to me the man looks just like me He said "My name is Angel White, boy, what is yours?" "I'm Baby Blue" I said to him he squinted back at me again And then he stood up walked away and closed the door I'm standing in a mirrored hall I punch and kick at every wall I fall my knuckles bloodied dripping to the ground I look up and see Angel White just disappear into the night There is a term for this if not then just a sound When I'm standing tall I can't help but fall When I'm on my knees I feel truly free When I see Remote Control she would just offer me a bowl And then she mesmerized explicitly at Dawn As she came tome again she fluctuated slightly then She misquoted all of the words I heard before She populated like a breeze that had a different chain link sleeve Of retributions paid and other ones that lost As she split the sun in half She moved against the righteous path And climbed down from the perch that never paid the cost As I stood to see that it wasn't me In that playful past of iconoclasts The old man shuffled past me there his flask was metal facial hair He had a jumpsuit on of rhinestones shining white Never gave me wisdom once I didn't ask for other ones But then I saw it as a lecture from respite Did he really give a shit I didn't think he was legit But then the world's a work and we're all fucking marks The greatest con became the truth Falsified by the unclaimed youth Of everyone it fades away into a spark I'm so goddamned tired I'm so goddamn mired Will it ever end probably not, my friend When a man ain't got no home there's one thing left he's born to roam But then again to run away's too aching sad As a pilgrim from the rest who like to propagate the best Of worst things everywhere there's money to be had So I disappeared to see if when a people can't be free That you can drown your sorrows just from passing through Guess we'll never really know but it's sure fun to try to though And if you don't agree I ain't got time for you All my bullets gone shot through by this song Westward let us roam make the road our home   Dave - guitar, vocals, harmonica Brian - bass, engineering, mixing Wil - drums Ian - mastering