Hey Momma I'm Goin' Crazy

Upbeat bluegrass driven by lively banjo and crisp mandolin picking, underpinned by steady upright bass and lively acoustic guitar rhythm, Harmonica weaves in energetic countermelodies, Male vocals deliver the melody with tight vocal harmonies on the chorus, evoking a joyful groove

V4.5-ALL

( opens with banjo, harmonica and fiddle)

{Verse 1]
I was drivin' 18 hours down Interstate 44
Dreamed a big fat momma crashed through my door,
Holdin' a 12-gauge rifle and a pistol strapped to her side,
I yelled, "Please don't shoot, I don't wanna die”
My CB crackled with a ghost‑runnin’ tone,
Trucker Ben whisperin’, “Breaker one‑nine, you’re not alone.”
I saw my buddy Ben cruisin’ up, haulin' ballpoint pens,
Just as I swerved past mile-marker ten.

(Banjo and bass build up)

[Pre‑Chorus]
I hollered, “Hey Ben, could you give me a hand?”
He said, “My handle’s Jellybean, say it nice and clean, my man.”

[Chorus]
Hey momma, I’m goin’ crazy,
My CB’s buzzin’ and the static’s hazy.
Breakers yellin’, “Son, you lost your lane,”
World goin’ sideways like a runaway train.
Hey momma, I’m goin’ crazy,
Eighteen hours on the road make a mind hazy.

(banjo, harmonica and fiddle jam)

[Verse 2]
When I got home later that night,
I opened up the door and flicked on the light,
Dropped my keys on the counter by my old fish tank,
Heard a strange thump-thump like somebody gettin' spanked.
Took a little peek through my old keyhole,
And nearly lost complete control—
There was a bird in a cage, swingin’ left and right,
Beat‑beat‑beatin’ up a donut like it owed him a fight.

[Pre‑Chorus]
I stepped back slow, said, “Lord, what’d I just see?”
That bird sippin' Gatorade and glarin' at me.

[Chorus]
Hey momma, I’m goin’ crazy,
There’s a bird in the house and the fight got lazy.
Feathers flyin’, donut crumbs on the floor,
Gatorade spillin’ as he’s swingin’ for more.
Hey momma, I’m goin’ crazy—
Eighteen hours on the road make a mind hazy.

[Bridge]
Maybe I been drivin’ too long,
Maybe the world’s hummin’ the wrong damn song,
Maybe that bird’s got problems too—
Who am I to judge what critters do?
Ben once said, “Boy, let life be strange,”
But if life had a manual, lost mine at mile -marker three.

[Chorus (Final)]
Hey momma, I’m goin’ crazy,
But the road gets wild and the nights get hazy.
Big fat mommas, hills full of Jellybeans,
Birdcage brawls, an impossible scene.
Hey momma, I’m goin’ crazy—
(spoken)
But maybe… I kinda like it that way.

2145/7500

( opens with banjo, harmonica and fiddle) {Verse 1] I was drivin' 18 hours down Interstate 44 Dreamed a big fat momma crashed through my door, Holdin' a 12-gauge rifle and a pistol strapped to her side, I yelled, "Please don't shoot, I don't wanna die” My CB crackled with a ghost‑runnin’ tone, Trucker Ben whisperin’, “Breaker one‑nine, you’re not alone.” I saw my buddy Ben cruisin’ up, haulin' ballpoint pens, Just as I swerved past mile-marker ten. (Banjo and bass build up) [Pre‑Chorus] I hollered, “Hey Ben, could you give me a hand?” He said, “My handle’s Jellybean, say it nice and clean, my man.” [Chorus] Hey momma, I’m goin’ crazy, My CB’s buzzin’ and the static’s hazy. Breakers yellin’, “Son, you lost your lane,” World goin’ sideways like a runaway train. Hey momma, I’m goin’ crazy, Eighteen hours on the road make a mind hazy. (banjo, harmonica and fiddle jam) [Verse 2] When I got home later that night, I opened up the door and flicked on the light, Dropped my keys on the counter by my old fish tank, Heard a strange thump-thump like somebody gettin' spanked. Took a little peek through my old keyhole, And nearly lost complete control— There was a bird in a cage, swingin’ left and right, Beat‑beat‑beatin’ up a donut like it owed him a fight. [Pre‑Chorus] I stepped back slow, said, “Lord, what’d I just see?” That bird sippin' Gatorade and glarin' at me. [Chorus] Hey momma, I’m goin’ crazy, There’s a bird in the house and the fight got lazy. Feathers flyin’, donut crumbs on the floor, Gatorade spillin’ as he’s swingin’ for more. Hey momma, I’m goin’ crazy— Eighteen hours on the road make a mind hazy. [Bridge] Maybe I been drivin’ too long, Maybe the world’s hummin’ the wrong damn song, Maybe that bird’s got problems too— Who am I to judge what critters do? Ben once said, “Boy, let life be strange,” But if life had a manual, lost mine at mile -marker three. [Chorus (Final)] Hey momma, I’m goin’ crazy, But the road gets wild and the nights get hazy. Big fat mommas, hills full of Jellybeans, Birdcage brawls, an impossible scene. Hey momma, I’m goin’ crazy— (spoken) But maybe… I kinda like it that way.

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