Breadline Blues (Price of the Truth)

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(Intro)
[Instrumental: A lonely slide guitar lick rings out over a warm, slightly overdriven guitar chord. Drums and bass fall into a lazy shuffle. Hammond organ swells quietly in the background.]

(Verse 1)
[Vocal: Raspy, storytelling]
Got a letter in the mailbox, stamped and signed and sealed,
“Your services no longer fit the way we run this field.”
“Your attitude’s not aligned with our company’s belief,”
That’s how they spell “you told the truth” in corporate-speak.
My desk cleared out, my badge turned in, no handshake at the door,
Just silence in the hallway where I don’t belong no more.
Fridge is getting empty, rent is coming due,
The price for saying what I saw just came to visit too.

(Pre-Chorus)
[Vocal: Bitter smile]
They think a hungry stomach makes a rebel kneel,
But some of us would rather starve than sign that crooked deal.

(Chorus)
[Vocal: Strong, bluesy, emotional]
Got those breadline blues, for the price of the truth,
Paid with my job, my name, my so-called “youth.”
They cut me from the circle, left me in the cold,
But I won’t trade my conscience for a pot of fool’s gold.
Breadline blues, but my spine stays straight,
I’d rather go broke than help them seal your fate.

(Verse 2)
[Vocal: World-worn, but resolute]
Old friends cross the sidewalk, eyes fixed on the ground,
Don’t want to catch my shadow, don’t want to hear the sound.
They speak in hushed-up whispers, “What happened to that guy?”
As if the truth I spoke was just some crazy lullaby.
They kept their chairs and paychecks, their tidy little lives,
But I can see the hollowness behind their plastic smiles.
I walk the streets with nothing but a tattered bit of pride,
But that’s still more than all the comfort they’ve got left inside.

(Instrumental Interlude)
[Instrumental: Bluesy electric guitar solo with bends and slides, backed by Hammond organ and steady shuffle drums, conveying both hurt and grit.]

(Bridge)
[Vocal: More intimate, almost spoken over a stripped-down groove (bass, light drums, organ)]
They told us money’s everything, security the crown,
But what good is a fortress if your soul’s already drowned?
You can lock up all your savings, keep your title clean,
I’ll be the one outside who still says what he’s seen.

(Chorus)
[Vocal: Bigger, more emotional, harmonica may join]
Got those breadline blues, for the price of the truth,
Paid with my job, my name, my so-called “youth.”
They cut me from the circle, left me in the cold,
But I won’t trade my conscience for a pot of fool’s gold.
Breadline blues, but my spine stays straight,
I’d rather go broke than help them seal your fate.

(Outro)
[Instrumental: Slide guitar reprises the intro lick, organ holds a warm chord, drums and bass slowly fade.]
[Vocal: Low, defiant whisper]
I’ll swallow hunger…
But not the lie.

2789/7500

(Intro) [Instrumental: A lonely slide guitar lick rings out over a warm, slightly overdriven guitar chord. Drums and bass fall into a lazy shuffle. Hammond organ swells quietly in the background.] (Verse 1) [Vocal: Raspy, storytelling] Got a letter in the mailbox, stamped and signed and sealed, “Your services no longer fit the way we run this field.” “Your attitude’s not aligned with our company’s belief,” That’s how they spell “you told the truth” in corporate-speak. My desk cleared out, my badge turned in, no handshake at the door, Just silence in the hallway where I don’t belong no more. Fridge is getting empty, rent is coming due, The price for saying what I saw just came to visit too. (Pre-Chorus) [Vocal: Bitter smile] They think a hungry stomach makes a rebel kneel, But some of us would rather starve than sign that crooked deal. (Chorus) [Vocal: Strong, bluesy, emotional] Got those breadline blues, for the price of the truth, Paid with my job, my name, my so-called “youth.” They cut me from the circle, left me in the cold, But I won’t trade my conscience for a pot of fool’s gold. Breadline blues, but my spine stays straight, I’d rather go broke than help them seal your fate. (Verse 2) [Vocal: World-worn, but resolute] Old friends cross the sidewalk, eyes fixed on the ground, Don’t want to catch my shadow, don’t want to hear the sound. They speak in hushed-up whispers, “What happened to that guy?” As if the truth I spoke was just some crazy lullaby. They kept their chairs and paychecks, their tidy little lives, But I can see the hollowness behind their plastic smiles. I walk the streets with nothing but a tattered bit of pride, But that’s still more than all the comfort they’ve got left inside. (Instrumental Interlude) [Instrumental: Bluesy electric guitar solo with bends and slides, backed by Hammond organ and steady shuffle drums, conveying both hurt and grit.] (Bridge) [Vocal: More intimate, almost spoken over a stripped-down groove (bass, light drums, organ)] They told us money’s everything, security the crown, But what good is a fortress if your soul’s already drowned? You can lock up all your savings, keep your title clean, I’ll be the one outside who still says what he’s seen. (Chorus) [Vocal: Bigger, more emotional, harmonica may join] Got those breadline blues, for the price of the truth, Paid with my job, my name, my so-called “youth.” They cut me from the circle, left me in the cold, But I won’t trade my conscience for a pot of fool’s gold. Breadline blues, but my spine stays straight, I’d rather go broke than help them seal your fate. (Outro) [Instrumental: Slide guitar reprises the intro lick, organ holds a warm chord, drums and bass slowly fade.] [Vocal: Low, defiant whisper] I’ll swallow hunger… But not the lie.

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