Trouble Girl (words by Leslie Braly, music by Leslie Braly and Johnny Sangster) Sometimes I think I made you up Sometimes I think I want so much to feel alright Did I conjure a lovely ghost, while wondering what death and love are really like Oh, the way that I miss you is trouble, girl Wearing the dress that you gave to me Documenting layers of ritual and shame You're a strange familiar Cut to a backstreet love scene, pouring rain, a little taste of something sweeter Oh, the way that I miss you is trouble, girl Wearing the dress that you gave to me Outside my thoughts I'm hiding Inside my thoughts keep unwinding I'm finding the way that I miss you is trouble, girl Wearing the dress that you gave to me The way that I miss you is trouble, girl

Your Rightful Place in the Sun by Joy Mills Believe it or not, time just slips away Down on the garden step I go, way out of the game Life would be simple to live by the lay of the land The weeds and the wild dimension in balance again Under the love, under the low light of day Call me your own, 'cuz I've lost faith Til now, summer love could never know Everything has got to go I'm in love with the way, your correlation of green Your serrated leaves, I dream of liminal things Life would be simple if not for the law of the land If not for the ache and knot that go hand in hand Under the love, under the low light of day Call me your own, 'cuz I've lost faith I walk the path of stones to where you grow Waiting for the breeze that blows Here in your rightful place in the sun In your rightful place in the sun Your rightful place in the sun

THE OTHER SIDE OF THE BORDER By Vince Mtz. Every day I dodge the law, like a film by Peckinpah, Still aim to deliver them all, to the other side Weather, snow, sleet or rain, I'll relieve them of their pain, Some might deem me insane, like I've gone awry. But these folks they need more green, if you know what I mean, If you've only seen the scene, then you know why. The other side of the border, The other side of the law, While folks enjoy their quarters, Others are behind the bars. Every morning I get up, pour some cold brew in my cup, Head to work, down at the local retail store. All my regulars come in, browse through the bargain bin, Then ask me, what I've got for them in store. All the tourists and newbies, can't believe the things they're seeing, Wall to wall and floor to floor goodies galore. Every color, every strain, more diversity more gain, If we can dream, the green can be so much more. The other side of the border, The other side of the law, While folks enjoy their quarters, Others are behind the bars. Don't they grow about everywhere, The founding fathers gardened theirs. Harvest wheat and harvest grain, But reefer makes a man insane. Who's the one that makes the laws, Builds the walls to keep them small. Fifty miles and fifty years, Keep them out we don't want them here. Who's the one that makes the laws, Builds the walls to keep them small. Fifty miles and fifty years, Keep them out we don't want them here. Lock them up we don't want them here. Keep it out we don't want it here.

Demolition by Nick Droz Graduate Smoke some pot Interview Land a job Rent your first apartment out of college Nine to five Not much else Happy hours Drinking helps A pattern that you struggle to acknowledge Make some friends Drink too much Hate the job Lose your touch Hatch a plan to see your boss tomorrow With a resignation letter No parachute to pull Give an explanation Feel like such a fool Hope that you know better Take it on the chin The gift of self-destruction Is the chance to try again Have a dream Sketch it out Draw up plans To build a house Outside Caledonia, Minnesota Buy some tools Hire help Hang a hammer From your belt Burn through all the cash the bank would loan you Finish up Have some doubts Lose some sleep Hate the house Find a package waiting at your door With a crow bar wrapped in ribbons An axe adorned in bows A card with an inscription A note to let you know It requires no permission To strip it down to stud and pipe The gift of demolition Is the change to get it right

High C By Chris Poage Inspired by Sean Beaudoin's book: Welcome Thieves I was in a hardcore band with a guy named Duff I played the bass he had a gibson guitar. Small town blues not much to do, Duff was in the back getting high on glue Not going to prom because prom's so lame, on the streets of Berlin we honed our busking game. With a harp in my hand, we were booed from the streets, so we headed back home not accepting defeat. That's when I got a saxophone I played it and played it and played it till the cows came home I bothered neighbors when i played out by the tree but if I learned one thing it was how to play high C How to play high C How to play high C Cleaning hotel rooms under the bridge with a red lebaron and cheap beer in the fridge. Duff came back so we start a new band with high high hopes and some lofty demands We spun this story one night at the bar how we're big and famous don't you know who you are? The band split up but Duff went on, I watched him on TV from my cold futon. That's when I had a baby girl named Rose. I knew she would grow up fast just like me No regrets, no looking back, no jealousy and on the saxophone I still like to play high C I like to play high C I like to play high C