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MP3 Smitty West - Your World

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MP3 Smitty West - Your W
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Provocative lyrics, and a vintage rock, folk, and little bit country style, that sometimes takes a biting stab at current topics. 100 of cd profits are donated to remove landmines and assist landmine victims in war-torn nations.

12 MP3 Songs in this album (48:06) !
Related styles: ROCK: Classic Rock, POP: Pop/Rock

People who are interested in Bob Dylan Bruce Springsteen Jimmy Buffett should consider this download.


Details:
Thanks to...

My musicians:
Jim Monahan...anything with strings
Larry Aberman...anything with skins
Scott Luedke...anything
My singers:
Debbie Brooks, Julija Zonic,
Scott Luedke, Jim Monahan
My voice coaches
Julija, Laura, and Julie
My band of critics
Ojai Songwriters Anonymous
My family
Betsy, Richard, Ernie,
and Harry (rest in peace),
Mom, Dad, Amy, and Pam
My piano

I love you all!

Produced by Scott Luedke and
Jim Monahan

Engineers: Scott Luedke and
Brad Dawson

Recorded at Cabin Trax Studios
Thousand Oaks, CA and
Sound Mind Studio
Ojai, CA

Mastered by Sean Ingoldsby
Real Time Studios Ojai, CA

© Euterpe Music Company 2008
667 S. Rice Rd., Ojai, CA 93023
[email protected]://www.tradebit.com

All lyrics and song credits follow:


Sayulita
2006

Oh Sayulita, mi senorita.
Te encanta cantar.

You came to me in an afternoon dream, and the sky on fire.
Your dark body sways, commanding the music to start.
Enchanted by passion, your song casts a spell in the twilight.
The cool evening air cannot quench the fire in my heart.

The days melt away and the evening, I pray, will go on and on.
Into the hours when only your voice fills the night.
âTe amo,â I plead, as your song goes higher and higher.
But in your dark eyes there burns an unreachable light.

I know not whether the future can ever release my love.
For now I know clearly, your song was never for me.
The flame in your heartâ¦I see now that no man can own it.
El canto del marâ¦you only can sing to the sea.

One of my favorite get-aways is a small fishing village in Mexico with soft sand, warm surf, hot music, flaming sunsets, and beautiful, friendly people. I asked one of my local friends how the town got its name, Sayulita. He told me it was just a nameâ¦a name for a woman, but no specific woman.

I was inspired to write a love song to Sayulita. She may or may not really exist, but my image of her beauty and passion blend with the sensuality of the town as she sings her song of love.

Gracias to Debbie Brooks for conjuring forth the mysterious and passionate song of Sayulita.

Written and sung by Smitty West
Sayulita Vocals Debbie Brooks
Guitars, Bass, Percussion Scott Luedke
Drums Larry Aberman
Electric Piano Scott Smith
Produced, Recorded and Mixed Scott Luedke

It Ainât Mine
2005

Coyote, loping through the night.
Iâm thinking, âMan, youâve got it right!â
âCause when the light goes pink on the mountain range.
And weâve just had our short exchange.
I start feeling a little strange.
Because itâs your world, it ainât mineâ¦

The clean air, floats like sweet perfume.
Behind me, the smell of the baby boom.
But when the lilac and the sage combine
And drift around this place divine,
I nod and say to old cloud nine,
âItâs your world, it ainât mineâ¦â

Hey Sunshine, warming up my day.
Youâre burning, but I still feel okay.
But when the night air drops down a few degrees
And the moon shines blue through the silent trees.
The nighttime gives no guarantees, because
Itâs your world, it ainât mineâ¦.

I really love living in Ojai, where the people are not in charge. The famousâ pink momentâ at sunset. The essence of sagebrush , or âcoyote cologne.â The dismissive look on the coyoteâs face when you cross his path, âWhat choo you lookinâ at, dude?â

Thanks to Jim Monahan for bringing drive and originality to the production with his acoustic guitar and trademark Telecaster.

Written and sung by Smitty West
Guitar, Bass, Mandolin Jim Monahan
Drums Larry Aberman
Piano Scott Smith
Backup Vocals Jim Monahan
Produced by Jim Monahan
Recording and Mixing Scott Luedke
Coyote Smitty West

Sequoia
2007

I was born to this forest floor
Rising here before the hand of man.
Your lifetimeâs just a breath.
A thousand yearsâ¦an hour of falling sand.

Selfish striking hordes lay on
Tearing at my flesh.
I stand alone beneath my proud green crown
Facing your machines
Iâm stuck in stone.

Why the hell you came here, I donât know.
I stand and I wait for the blow.

Pride gives you false power.
Blades tear down my tower.
A fortune for your small-minded dreams.
Nobody hears my silent screams.

Itâs all for a stack of Sunday Times
Or a thousand fallen fence posts.
You forgotâ¦Iâm coming back
as a redwood coffin for your rot!

I wrote this song while camping in the Sequoia National Forest in the California Sierras near some old groves of giant Sequoia trees. One I area I visited had been logged over one hundred years ago, and only black stumps remainedâ¦huge charred sentinels from days gone, guarding a verdant meadow of new growth.

Sequoias are among the oldest living things on Earth, and are the most massive life forms in existence. They have adapted to the harsh Sierra life of fire, ice and wind, but were ill-prepared for the woodsmenâs ax at the turn of the century.

One famous stump is called the Chicago Stump, all thatâs left from the General Noble Tree. The cutting of this huge tree was commissioned for the 1893 Chicago Worldâs Fair. Too big to transport, a section of the tree was cut into hundreds of smaller pieces and reassembled at the fair site. All for naughtâ¦Fair visitors thought it was a hoax. No tree could be this big.

The irony in our age of human conquest for financial gain is that Sequoia wood is virtually worthless. Relegated to fence posts and roofing shingles, it rotted away within ten years. Thisâ¦after 3500 years of living glory.

I wrote this song standing on a Sequoia stump with my guitar. I felt the old tree screaming silently of what he had seen and what he had survived. â¦only to be felled for human pride.

In the end, the only thing of any value that could be built from sequoia wood was a coffin. So I was pleased to give my tree the last laugh here.

Thanks to my friend Julija Zonic for the passionate backing vocals, and to Jim Monahan for the great guitar and mandolin work.

Written and sung by Smitty West
Guitars, Mandolin, Bass, Toy Guitar Jim Monahan
Drums Larry Aberman
Piano Scott Smith
Backup Vocals Julija Zonic Jim Monahan
Produced by Jim Monahan
Scott Luedke
Recording Engineer Scott Luedke
Mixing Engineer Scott Luedke

Sandman
2005

Sandman!
Screaming in your wasteland.
Praying to an oil can.
Youâre working such a bad plan.
With a sad hand.
In a dead land.
Why canât you try and understand?
Sandman!

Screaming out loud, but the world donât hear ya.
The only one that gives a damn is al jazeerah.
You dug yourself a hole, you bow and cower.
Your hiding days were over when you flew into the tower.

Sittinâ down with OPEC, itâs a price alert
âcause your suckinâ black gold from the burninâ dirt.
I donât think itâs what the prophet had in mind:
Bowing every day to the Exxon sign.

Open your eyes. Take off that sheet
You ainât going nowhere treating women like meat.
Spend a million dollars on a western blond.
I hate to be the one to tell you, âyou got it wrong!â

You look just like his brother, you play the old game.
Didnât know to hate him till you heard his name.
Nothinâ for the fellow but the sole of your shoe. And now..
â¦you gotta get in line to take a slap at a Jew.

Sandman!

I have a pretty good dose of Middle Eastern blood in me, as both of my maternal grandparents were Lebanese. I have visited Lebanon several times and have never experienced anything like the hospitality there.

I firmly believe that people are the same everywhere. I also believe that people are different everywhere. The âSandmanâ in my song isnât any man in particular; rather represents tribalism, greed, misogyny, and religious intolerance.

Written and sung by Smitty West
Guitar, Bass, Synth Scott Luedke
Drums Larry Aberman
Percussion Programming Scott Luedke
Backup Vocals Julija Zonic
Produced by Scott Luedke
Recording and Mixing Scott Luedke

Waitinâ For You
2005

In my dreams youâre sitting right here next to me.
But when I wake up I see that youâre not here.
Iâve been waiting for the day, thinking about the way
That your endless love keeps me hanging on.
I only hope that endless lasts forever.
Waitinâ for youâ¦

In my dreams, the moonlight looks for your eyes.
The golden sunlight searches for your smile.
Got the gentle cool breeze blowing through the trees
Coming down to linger in your hair.
The beauty of my world can wait forever.
Waitinâ for youâ¦

I left you cryingâ¦there was no one around.
I see the teardrops...petalsâ¦scattered on the ground.

October leaves will fall and fall forever.
Seasons spin, and the years will come and go.
But Iâll wait until the leaves have fallen off the trees
And theyâre buried deep under the snow.
I only know that Iâll be here foreverâ¦
Waitinâ for youâ¦

I originally wrote this song as a rock ballad, but when my co-producer, Scott Luedke, got his hands on it, he immediately had a better idea. He knew renowned drummer Larry Aberman from work they did together at DW Drums here in Ventura Couty. Larry had a cool beat that Scott affectionately called â the Abershuffle.â He thought it would be a more modern sound that fit the story well.

Well, we ran Larry down in Las Vegas, and we collaborated over the Internet wire-ways. It worked so well, I ended up using Larry on most of my songs.

Scott liked the song so much he insisted on singing it too. Nice job.

Written by Smitty West and Scott Luedke
Sung by Scott Luedke
Guitars, Bass, Synth Scott Luedke
Drums Larry Aberman
Piano Scott Smith
Produced, Recorded, Mixed Scott Luedke

My Piano
2005

Touch me, touch my fingers.
Hold me, hold my hands.
Soothe me, soothe my sorrows.
Help me understand.

In this world of broken promises
Itâs hard to let it go.
Youâre my friend.
You are my love.
You are my piano.

Tell me that Iâm okay.
When they have me wrong.
Your voice comforts my heart.
Sing me your sweet song.

In this world of silent lies
I hear your crescendo.
Youâre my friend.
You are my love.
You are my piano.

You and I, we share the same language.
But we donât need the words to sing our song.
Weâre sitting at a table set for only you and me.
If music be the food of love, play on!

My feet move your pedals.
My hands hold your keys.
Your sweet strings ring in my soul.
You help my life ease.

In this world of burned-out light
I see your ivory glow.
Youâre my friend.
You are my love.
You are my piano.

Growing up in Western Pennsylvania, I took piano lessons for many years from a kindly old man named Frank Kennedy.

Sometime around the age of 12, I started to experience that day-dreamy, out of body sensation that many musicians feel while playing. Even when playing while reading sheet music, Iâd find myself at the end of a piece and would stop and wonder how I had managed to play the whole piece while thinking about nothing at all. I mentioned this to Mr. Kennedy, and he just smiled and nodded.

It wasnât until years later as an adult with grown-up stresses, I realized what a wonderful gift I had been givenâ¦.to be able to âcheck outâ at the piano. The only way I can describe this feeling is that itâs like the experience of new loveâ¦that feeling that nothing else matters in the whole world when youâre around the one you love.

So I wrote this love song to my beautiful, shiny black baby grand that was a gift from my first and only Love.

Written and sung by Smitty West
Guitars, Bass Jim Monahan
Piano, Synth Scott Smith
Drum Programming Brad Dawson
Backup Vocals Jim Monahan
Produced by Jim Monahan
Recorded and Mixed Brad Dawson

Sedona
2006

Polyester chapel in the canyon wall.
âWe can see dead peopleâ says the sign in the hall.
Purchase an adventure, itâs five dollars a day.
You donât get emanations if you donât pay.

How it ever came to this, I canât explain.
Humanity is gonna drive creation insane.
Rainbows try to push on through the acid rain.
Hummers line the astral plain.

Time-share gypsy asking âwhere you from?
Step right on up. Itâs an easy sum.
2 â 2 condo with a vortex view.
Hot tub, carport, crystal BBQ.â

Pay the painted lady to relive your youth.
Cough up a little more if you want the truth.
âI can see the spirits I can hear them too.
Just take a number, and weâll pull one through.â

When I first visited Sedona, Arizona in the early 1990s, I was struck by the purity, natural beauty and spiritual nature of the place. I always wanted to return to write a song.

I returned in 2006 to a different Sedona. . â¦timeshare hawkers everywhere, take-a-number aural readings, chapels carved into the canyonsâ¦I climbed a butte in one of the canyons that was reportedly under a vortex to meditate. Then came the roaring Harleys and Hummers. Then came the cops with a citation to punish me for not buying a five dollar âAdventure Passâ parking validation.

For Sale: âsmall, peaceful and artistic hamlet located two hours north of Phoenix, reported to be a vortex of metaphysical energy that can enhance the creative human spirit.â

Written and sung by Smitty West
Guitars, Bass Jim Monahan
Drums Larry Aberman
Piano, Hammond Organ, Synth Scott Smith
Backup Vocals Jim Monahan
Produced by Jim Monahan
Recording Engineer Brad Dawson
Mixing Engineer Scott Luedke

Lady Of The Aisle
2006

Itâs too far to walk.
Itâs too far to drive.
But Iâd like to get there
While Iâm still alive
So Iâm crammed into this silver can
With screaming baby hollers.
I wanna put myself to sleep.
But a damn beer cost $5.

Iâm full, upright and locked right here.
In case you want to see.
Flying at the speed of sound,
Strapped down in 18B.
Five miles high and falling fast in love with your sweet smile.
Sit back, relax, enjoy the ride.
My Lady of the Aisle.

Rolling down the runway,
You appear next to my row.
Hazel eyes. Perfect smile.
Your golden hair just so.
âWould you like some leg room, sir?
Iâve a better seat for you.â
She guides me through the curtain to
My new seat in row 2.

Iâm full, upright and locked right here.
In case you want to see.
Flying at the speed of sound,
Now kicked back in 2D.
Come collect my service items.
Stop and chat awhile.
Sit back, relax, enjoy the ride.
My Lady of the Aisle.

âLow and snug across your hips.â
Maybe you might show me, dear?
Iâve reached my cruising altitude.
Itâs open bar up here.
Can we share a holding pattern?
My seat goes back real low.
My radarâs blippinâ really fastâ¦I wanted you to know.

Iâm full, upright and locked right here.
In case you want to see.
Give myself a little pinch.
This ainât no fantasy.
My baggage, Iâve all left behind
Iâm traveling now in style.
Sit back, relax, enjoy the ride.
My Lady of the Aisle.

You brush past me, it must be love.
I shiver with delight.
I follow you behind the door.
Itâs sure my lucky night.
Whatâs this? Youâre in the arms of some damn flyboy dressed in blue!
One day Iâm gonna get my wings
And Iâll be coming back for you!

Iâm full, upright and locked right here.
In case you want to see.
But now I know I ainât the guy
Itâs someone else not me.
My hatâs off to you, Capitan
Youâre smooth and youâre virile.
Sit back, relax, enjoy the ride with
My Lady of the Aisle.

I spent a big hunk of my life doing the corporate thing, riding around in too many airplanes to go to too many meetings.

I always felt a little sorry for the flight attendants, who have to perform the same thankless shtick countless times for a bunch of bored sardines. I tried to pay attention to their announcements, and I got to where I could say it all in my sleep.

âPlease return your seat backs and tray tables to their full, upright, and locked positionsâ was one of my favorites. Who would ever say that anywhere else in the world? âWe will come about the cabin to collect your service items?â The only place they have âservice itemsâ is on airplanes.

Well, mix it all with a couple Margaritas and the flight attendantâ¦my Lady of the Aisleâ¦starts to look mighty fine. Hence this reggae fantasy about love found and lost on a tropical âaisle.â

Thanks again to Julija Zonic for the fun backup vocals that bring this song to life. And yes, there are no more words in the English language that rhyme with âaisle,â so the song had to finally end.

Written and sung by Smitty West
Guitar, Bass Jim Monahan
Drums Larry Aberman
Piano, Steel Drums Scott Smith
Backup Vocals Julija Zonic Jim Monahan
Produced by Jim Monahan
Recording Engineer Brad Dawson
Mixing Engineer Scott Luedke

Baja Dream
2006

Water mirrors the hillsides.
Sun dips in the sea.
Go to sleep.
Desert breeze.
Cool and clean.
Baja dream.

Seabird is calling to no one.
No one calls now to me.
She rides on.
Free, but gone.
Leaves on the stream.
Baja dream.

Like a cactus, fighting to flower.
Petals, dried out and tossed.
Cast away.
Itâs an old cliché,
That Iâm better to have loved and to have lost.

Somewhere thereâs a spring in the desert.
I want to float in that stream.
Drift away.
So, I pray:
Carry me.
Baja dream.

Coastal Baja California is one of my favorite âget away from it allâ places. Thereâs a secret spot about a half-dayâs drive south of the border with good surfing, fantastic sunsets, and nobody else around. Gorgeous desert, blue Pacific, coastal mountains, and thatâs about it. The food is great⦠hand-picked cold water mussels grilled over the fire or boiled in beer.

Sorry, I canât tell you where it is. Find your own secret spot.

Watching the sky on fire at sunset and half asleep, this song came to me. Itâs a lullaby in three-quarters time, with that circling seagull, calling to no one.

Written and sung by Smitty West
Guitars, Bass, Mandolin Jim Monahan
Drums Larry Aberman
Piano, Flute, Cello, Synth Scott Smith
Backup Vocals Jim Monahan
Produced by Jim Monahan
Recording Engineer Brad Dawson
Mixing Engineer Scott Luedke

Shining Angel
2006

There I was, confined in the walls around my mind.
Going nowhere blindly down the drain.
Then your soothing tenderness cleared away the mess
that collected and was driving me insane.

Now, I wanna hold you.
Just like I told you.
I know you canâ¦but please donât fly.
And when the cold, cold world tries telling me,thereâs other girls.
Iâm gonna hold you till I die.

Baby, youâre my shining angel.
Hold me within your wings.
Maybe youâll come and free me from my isolation.
Together, weâre gonna sing!
La la la la laâ¦

This ended up as a pretty plain vanilla happy song about a special angel in my life.

It didnât start that way. It started as a song about a septic tank.

Yeah, thatâs right. I had a backed up sewer on the night I moved onto my farm in Ojai, and of course we had neighbors for dinner that night. Welcome to the neighborhood.

The next day, a visitor shows up to see a friend who was staying with us. This southern gentleman from South Carolina just happened to be a licensed plumber.

This âSewer Angelâ fixed the problem.

But the next week, the sewer backed up again.

He was no longer my Sewer Angel.

I wrote a song about the episode. It had some raunchy lyricsâ¦a cool edge, and I played it for a group of my songwriters friends. To a person, there was an emphatic, âGROSS!â

So I âcleaned upâ the lyrics, changed the title, and whatâs left is âLa la la la la.â

Written and sung by Smitty West
Guitars, Bass Jim Monahan
Drums Larry Aberman
Piano and Synth Scott Smith
Backup Vocals Jim Monahan
Produced by Jim Monahan
Scott Luedke
Recording Engineer Brad Dawson
Mixing Engineer Scott Luedke

Cumberland Gap
2006

Now I know the feeling of what loneliness is like
Thatâs led me to this station in the darkness of the night.
Thunder and lightning, and the sound of the falling rain
Hanging on to my ticket, waitinâ for that train.

So when I hear that lonely whistle blow
Iâll be standing in line, waiting for that train to go
For my last ride on the old CV
Through Cumberland Gap into Tennessee
Going back home nowâ¦Lord, my soul is free.

Iâve been a lot of places, seen lots of troubled faces.
And done most everything I wanted to do.
Iâve been high and dry and wasted. The devilâs left his traces.
Lord Iâve had to pay some heavy dues.

It feels so good inside to know Iâm on my way back home.
My head is clear, and now I seeâ¦thatâs where I long to be.
Itâs not too late for changes. Now I know Iâm free.
I put my faith in Jesus. He came and rescued me.

Debbie Dean is the stage name of the late Reba Jeanette Smith, born in 1928 in Corbin, Kentucky. She was the first white woman signed to Motown Records.

The blond-reddish-haired singer debuted as Debbie Dean with "Itty Bitty Pity Love", and later released "Don't Let Him Shop Around" in 1961. A third single, "Everybody's Talking About Me", crashed with the others, and Motown, cooled on Dean, who was 34 at the time.

By most accounts, Debbie had a rough life trying to make it in music and later in a B-movie acting career in Los Angeles.

I met Debbieâs widower, Jim, in Ojai a couple years ago. He told me a sad story.

She was kidnapped mysteriously in the 1990s and when she was released a month later, the trauma of her ordeal had made her insane. She spent the last few years of her life at a nursing home in Ojai, and died in 2001.

Jim handed me a cassette tape and told me âThis was her last, and my most favorite song. Iâd like you to listen to it.â

I took the tape home and played it, expecting some sort of dated Motown-ish ditty, but I was shocked. On the tape was a recording of Debbie, playing an out-of-tune guitar, with a REALLY out of tune piano in the background coming in and outâ¦but the song was a folk songâ¦.the story of her life, with her plaintive voice oozing the in a style that harkened back to her more innocent childhood days in Kentucky.

With Jimâs permission, I transcribed the song as best as I could, made a few musical changes to tighten it up, and recorded it.

The other Debbie, my friend and talented vocalist Debbie Brooks, sang on this recording. Our duet performance of it has become a favorite request at live performances.

I kept it pretty simple with piano and a little cello because I think it best reflects the original and only performance of Debbie Dean singing it on the old, scratchy cassette tape.

Written by Debbie Dean and Scott Smith
Sung by Debbie Brooks
Piano Scott Smith
Synth Scott Luedke
Backup Vocals Smitty West
Produced, Recorded, and Mixed Scott Luedke

Posiblemente
2005

Itâs cold up here above the border.
So I went down and asked the guard..
âCan I cross and go below?â
âMaybe si. Maybe no.â
Posiblemente. I like that word.

I warmed up to a cold cerveza.
Itâs getting toward siesta time.
A senorita I did spy.
I smiled at her. She winked her eye.
Posiblemente Iâm in love!

Posiblemente down below.
Posiblemente above.
Posiblemente Iâm in love.

She took me to her family.
It sure was quite a crowd.
Her sister did a dance for me.
Her cousin brushed against my knee.
Posiblemente Iâm in love!

Iâm a kid in a shop of candy.
My tummyâs smaller than my eye.
But Papa made the choice no fun.
Down the barrel of his gun.
Posiblemente, Iâm gonna cry!

Now thatâs all ancient history.
A month of Sundays have passed real slow.
I never thought, I never planned
To run the family taco stand.
Posiblemente, Iâve found a home.

I was ordering a bite at a taco stand at a sleepy fishing village in Mexico, when a gringo walked up to take my order. He seemed SO out of place, a stereotype New York Jewish man: Black hair, big nose, Brooklyn accent, and sweating profusely in the tropical heat and humidity.

He told me his story, a story that has been told countless times in cultures all around the world: Boy travels to new country. Boy falls in love with native girl. Native girlâs father calls shotgun wedding. Boy finds new home.

I wanted to write a song titled Posiblemente, which translates to âmaybeâ in English. Mexico used to be the land of âMananaâ, thereâs always tomorrow to get it done. Iâve noticed that as the country has developed economically over the past few decades that my requests are more often answered with a polite âPosiblementeâ than âManana.â

Thank goodness that this wonderful country is not the land of âI want it yesterday!â thatâs so prevalent in more and more places.

So I killed two birds with one stone with this song, combining the story of a young man falling in love south of the border with a big âmaybeââ

Thanks to my Mexican friends Urbano and Mercedes for providing the hilarious background dialogue.

Written and sung by Smitty West
Guitars, Bass, Mandolin Jim Monahan
Piano, Drum Programming Trumpet, Accordion Scott Smith
Backup Vocals Jim Monahan
Spanish Voices Urbano Hernandez
Mercedes Ortiz
Produced by Jim Monahan
Recording and Mixing Brad Dawson

Why Do You Stay?
2006

I remember way back when, when I stood out from other men
and somehow caught your pretty sparklinâ eye.
Well youâre still lookinâ mighty good,
and I know that I really should
Show a little lovinâ in reply.

Why do you stay?
Where would you go?
How can you be so true?
When will I know
What I should do, and
Who I can be for you?

I know I promised Iâd be true. Roses red and violets blueâ¦
I sure forgot the rest of that rhyme.
Now flowers stand down in the store. I donât tip my hat or hold the door.
But you still are an angel all the time.

Finally one long sober night I hit my head. I saw the light.
I see I gotta thank my lucky star.
Iâll listen, try to understand, look in your eyes, and hold your hand
And treat you like the treasure that you are.

Well, I donât drive a pickup truck and I donât eat meat, but I do have a red hound dog and listen to country music when Iâm alone in the car.

It should be pretty clear that this is a love song, and itâs about my beautiful wife of 25 years.

Just for sport, I wanted to see how many questions I could fit in one chorus. Why, where, how, when, what, whoâ¦theyâre called interrogative adverbs. My momâs a journalist, so I was sure to look that up...but sheâll probably catch me on the âwho/whom subject/object thingyâ in the last lineâ¦I hope I got it right here.

Written and sung by Smitty West
Guitar, Bass, Mandolin, Dobro Jim Monahan
Drum Programming, Piano Scott Smith
Backup Vocals Jim Monahan
Produced by Jim Monahan
Recording Engineer Brad Dawson
Mixing Engineer Scott Luedke


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