Maximally Unimpressed

growling gravelly baritone vocals, spoken-word beatnik delivery, raspy smoke-damaged singing, slow tempo junk jazz, clanking metallic percussion, lazy brushed snare, distorted upright bass, marimba, muted trombone, 1980s dark blues rock, melancholic smoky noir, low-fidelity analog warmth

[Verse 1]
Collar turned up against the alleyway draft
Drinking cheap gin while the holy men laughed
They talk about tomorrow, they sweat and they pray
I’m sweeping the sawdust, sleeping through the day
A guy walks in with a ledger and ink
Staring at my rags, staring at my drink
He barks at my coat, points a finger at my chest
I take a slow drag... 
Maximally unimpressed.

[Chorus]
[The rhythm drops into a heavy, limping sway. A muted trombone groans.]
'Cause who knows the weather when the sun goes black?
This whole world’s a circus on a broken track
So hand me life's finest, slice the crust of the bread
If life is a shadow, I’m a king till I’m dead
Go weigh up my soul, put my sins to the test
The gutter philosopher remains...
Maximally unimpressed.

[Verse 2]
A kid steps out from the cold and the mire
Despair in his eyes, playing with fire
He asks for a nickel, he asks for a light
I reach in my coat where the lining is tight
No gold in my pockets, just a few copper cents
And a book of damp matches to pay for my rents
Green paper leaves me cold, it just rots in the end
It’s nothing but wood pulp to burn or to spend.

[Verse 3]
They bring out the cobwebs, the chains, and the fog
A cheap carnival nightmare to frighten a hog
The judge slams his mallet, points down to the grease
A cliché machine where they sell you no peace
He promises fire and eternal unrest
I just yawn at his monsters...
Maximally unimpressed.

[Chorus]
'Cause who knows the weather when the sun goes black?
This whole world’s a circus on a broken track
So hand me life's finest, slice the crust of the bread
If life is a shadow, I’m a king till I’m dead
Go weigh up my soul, put my sins to the test
The gutter philosopher remains...
Maximally unimpressed.

[Bridge]
My lot is to rejoice in the dirt and the now
To ruin today is a fool’s broken vow
No specter can cage up the joy of the beast
I won’t trade my peace for a fictional priest.

[Outro]
The ledger is closed.
The final decree.
But look at that judge... yeah, he’s staring at me.

Ha...
He thinks that I’m broken.
He thinks I'm distressed.
But I look in his eyes...

And I'm maximally...
Unimpressed.

2514/7500

[Intro] [Spoken Word - Deep, gravelly, smoke-damaged voice] "Time... it’s a funny thing. ... You wake up... down to thirty-five summers. .... Me? I’ve seen every midnight twice. .... There is nothing better for a man than to rejoice in his own works. That’s your lot, pal. Who’s gonna bring you back to see what happens after? .... Exactly. Bring on the judge." [Verse 1] Collar turned up against the alleyway draft Drinking cheap gin while the holy men laughed They talk about tomorrow, they sweat and they pray I’m sweeping the sawdust, sleeping through the day A guy walks in with a ledger and ink Staring at my rags, staring at my drink He barks at my coat, points a finger at my chest I take a slow drag... Maximally unimpressed. [Chorus] [The rhythm drops into a heavy, limping sway. A muted trombone groans.] 'Cause who knows the weather when the sun goes black? This whole world’s a circus on a broken track So hand me life's finest, slice the crust of the bread If life is a shadow, I’m a king till I’m dead Go weigh up my soul, put my sins to the test The gutter philosopher remains... Maximally unimpressed. [Verse 2] A kid steps out from the cold and the mire Despair in his eyes, playing with fire He asks for a nickel, he asks for a light I reach in my coat where the lining is tight No gold in my pockets, just a few copper cents And a book of damp matches to pay for my rents Green paper leaves me cold, it just rots in the end It’s nothing but wood pulp to burn or to spend. [Verse 3] They bring out the cobwebs, the chains, and the fog A cheap carnival nightmare to frighten a hog The judge slams his mallet, points down to the grease A cliché machine where they sell you no peace He promises fire and eternal unrest I just yawn at his monsters... Maximally unimpressed. [Chorus] 'Cause who knows the weather when the sun goes black? This whole world’s a circus on a broken track So hand me life's finest, slice the crust of the bread If life is a shadow, I’m a king till I’m dead Go weigh up my soul, put my sins to the test The gutter philosopher remains... Maximally unimpressed. [Bridge] My lot is to rejoice in the dirt and the now To ruin today is a fool’s broken vow No specter can cage up the joy of the beast I won’t trade my peace for a fictional priest. [Outro] The ledger is closed. The final decree. But look at that judge... yeah, he’s staring at me. Ha... He thinks that I’m broken. He thinks I'm distressed. But I look in his eyes... And I'm maximally... Unimpressed.

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