I heard that it can be argued
That you are the living proof
Work hard and sacrifice too
You will be rewarded

Maybe for some this is true
But it didn't work for me for you
When everything we make or to do
Is gone or distorted.

Now nobody sees U.F.O.s
And there's nowhere new for us to go
And even if we wanted too though
We couldn't afford it

Your heroes have killed themselves yes
On purpose or by accident
Now the only ones that we have left
Are no longer touring

Oh middle age
Oh middle age

Its the silver anniversary
But feels like it was yesterday
In that time we've not had much to say
This is our life our life at 40

There's nothing new under the sun
The killer is still on the run
You're not even sure how to get shit done
Help me, Mr. Gordy.

Do machines know how to think?
What would they think of your kinks?
And what you do when you're all alone
Would they support it?

You know its true so cop to it
But you don't know when to quit
Floating in space like the Voyager 6

Oh middle age
Oh middle age

The jokers are wild and suicidal
There are no hall passes here just crocodiles
No Popsicles
Ways to the hospital
Take a big bite out and smile

Bobby Eaton the great, is late for a date
On Jupiter Station and I can relate.
I don't know what they mean by a zero sum game
But you win when I lose again and again

I've had enough and I'm calling your bluff
With the god of gods oh Supreme Krishna
We chant your names a holy mantra
Hare Hare

We parked outside of Morrissey's house
With no intention of getting out
Or ringing the bell or starting to shout
I don't think he saw me

I've had my share of water and gin
With Miracle Mike the Headless Chicken
Before we reach mars in the end
Repeat back my safe word again

I keep missing my favorite bands live
You don't even tell me they're gonna arrive
But man it looked like a good time
Philly;s not really that far of a drive

Oh middle age
Oh middle age

I'll meet you at the Hoover Dam
You'll know it's me by what I have planned.
At least I'll have somewhere to land.
Make way boys

I'm here watching for ghosts again
But no matter how high I am
When I close my eyes and count to ten
I never meet them

So, ready or not here I come
I have wishes, 1001
But none of them sound like much fun
So its your choice

I never managed to have any kids
Where I sit, the couch smells like cat piss
It's true it's as good as it gets

The jokers are wild and suicidal
There are no hall passes here just crocodiles
No Popsicles
Ways to the hospital
Take a big bite out and smile

Friday the 13th won't show me no mercy
There's nothing left of me here Mr. Deputy
The safe is empty it just sits there tempting me
Lock me inside and swallow the key


from Dead Men Don't Bite Back, released October 10, 2019


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10x Records New Castle, Delaware

Home of Jared Morris, the singer/guitarist for successful punk rock trio My Version of It.

His solo work represents other sides of the artist including is affection for works in the public domain and interest in the avant garde.

He also hosts a rock 'n roll radio show and has published a book (Journal-ism) which graphic artist Jon Groobz described as "a literary crossword puzzle."
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