the Meadowlands (2003)

The Meadowlands

Produced by Pedal Boy & the Wrens
Released 2003, Absolutely Kosher Records

This is the artwork for The Meadowlands. Note the dedication to Sheila Bissell, Gene Whelan and Rich MacDonald. Strangely enough for a band comprised of two brothers and four best friends that had been together 14 years at this point (early 2003), as work on the Meadowlands finished up, we each lost a parent within a month of each other.
More on that some other timeā€¦.

MP3s

Lyrics

  1. The House That Guilt Built
  2. Happy
  3. She Sends Kisses
  4. This Boy is Exhausted
  5. Hopeless
  6. Faster Gun
  7. Thirteen Grand
  8. Boys, You Won’t Remember
  9. Ex-Girl Collection
  10. Per Second Second read
  11. Everyone Choose Sides
  12. 13 Months in 6 Minutes
  13. This is Not What You Had Planned


the house that guilt built

Its been so long

since you’ve heard from me

got a wife and kid

that I never see

and I’m nowhere near

what I dreamed I’d be

i can’t believe

what life has done to me



happy

You’re the one I want

you’re a chance to take

you’re a hard break

and swore you’d never leave again

you’re the only one

that I ever trusted

or who ever cared at all

is this how its going to be

is this how you wanted me

broken down again

its almost over now

is this why you wanted me

to watch as you walk away

you kept on killing me

and you don’t even want to touch me

I was wrong

I’ve wasted on

can’t figure out

what happened to us

I won’t count on you anymore

I’ll be all right

don’t worry about me

aren’t you happy now

you got what you want

I wanted you

but I’m over that now

I’m so sick of you and what we went through

your lies to me

won’t win again

so don’t kid yourself

its better this way

its all back to me



she sends kisses

ten tons against me and you’ve gone

I put your favorite records on

and sit around

it spins around

and you’re around again

struck dumb while drugs run at how high reeds

cue every memory at half-speeds

just like….charles, hold-me-downs

I’m-coming sounds

cut crap, who’s filling shoes like these anymore?

past clumsy crushes beneath Thrill Pier

hopes pinned to poses honed in men’s room mirrors

a sophomore at Brown

she worked Lost & Found

I put your face on her all year

from five rows of photos when you wrote

of posed you, dressed blue, a backyard boat

signed at the bottom with this quote:

(#4 North Shore) a cape may address

your new one I guess

‘all’s well in hell and all here’s hoping’

she sends kisses

some signed ‘with Love, Beth oooooo xxxxx’

she sends kisses

same old beth - some signed 666

our shore town knockdown sure was fun

yeah, white trash, what have you

I fired replies back gun by gun

past Seven Wrecks I read your four answers: 1. your move 2. I’m tres involved 3. move on 4. love, Beth

I walk it down

this tourist town

‘just thought I’d’ calls

just friends

she sends kisses

and all at once back doors blow open

she sends….
in envelopes stamped w/ ‘Hope & Hearts’ - ripped right open

she sends…

but I’m corrupt - I wrote back good luck



this boy is exhausted

lock me in

tied to work

splitting rocks

cutting diamonds

100 days

with no pay

not anymore

cause I’m caught

I can’t type

I can’t temp

I’m way past college

no ways out

no back doors not anymore

but then once a while

we’ll play a show then that makes it worthwhile

our sights set low

as jerry squares off the set - here we go

but…this boy is exhausted

8 years long

a single song

come to this

triple guessing

double down

a v.p.’s faith is one single long

cause I can’t write

what I know - it’s not worth writing

I can’t tell

a hit from hell

from one sing-along

but then greg plugs in

a treble checking that says we might win

hell’s henry pearls

the woven strap wins the galloway girls but….

but then kev jumps in

and hits the floor as the stick hits the rim

I guess we’re done

cause every win on this record’s hard won but….



hopeless

not this time too

I’m the only one you got to use

and if I tell you all this could be

nothing more than a way to leave you

would you want me

and now you’re sorry for the things you did to me

I want you to know

I feel I was the one who got used and use to

just about anything you would tell me

but those days are more than over now

hopeless

that this will turn out better

this isn’t want I wanted

I should have listened to them

go thank yourself for nothing

its really all you’re good for

every year you wasted

and every half ass offer



faster gun

snow scenes level lonely bastards



thirteen grand

Talk about all that you kept bottled up inside

Makes you laugh

then it makes you cry

I said it all too late

Is this real at all

you’re not so sure

It’s easy now because you’re safe

can’t change your mind

Moving on is not fair when it leaves me on my own

I lived my life waiting for tomorrow

but I guess it’s your turn now

We trade these lines to get us by

but what’s it matter

You keep saying Jersey’s not a home

I thought I had it all figured out

but look who got it wrong



boys you won’t

Boys you won’t remember

from the minute

you walked into the room

every letter started broken hearted

and ended way too soon

lived through underrated

getting jaded

to wind up with no one

hiding in new places

singing “I guess we’re done”

I don’t want you to wonder why

it won’t do any good

you don’t know what you got into

until you know when its all gone wrong

and I don’t feel the need to try and explain



ex-girl collection

fourth floor room

each girl I’ve brought back home to bloom

all fold on close inspection

each one leaves a banner hanging from the eaves

marking the eve of election

ex-girl collection

why/ into why not

into what else you got?

it’s just how men mark time
ann slams in

another lightening round begins

this could get interesting

where’s ann been?

she pours herself a don’t-ask gin

no ice and light on the bitters

I’m done with quitters

‘why / charles, I found out

wipe that smile off your mouth

I think it’s tell-me time…’

britt hit hard

she found my box of beth’s best cards

hand cut and signed with ‘x’s

called at work

‘happy anniversary, jerk’

and I just laughed at the timing with you on hold line 2 still crying
‘why

play sex on the cuff?

does beth like it rough?

and learn your dirty lines?

and keep her hair cropped

(the other shoe dropped)

‘is this how men mark time in couples?’, she cursed

(this sounds too rehearsed)

as ann, hand on hip, accusing me to the rafters

the words turn and spit and scorch right through to the plaster

I’m called 10 kinds of a bastard

curses came faster

why / into why not?

into charles gone to pot

in hotter water

line up to lift up a toast

to the ones I hurt most

and how the well’s gone lime

with charles on the plow

I’m roger over and how

slower now men mark time

fine

why, what else you got?



per second second

I had this dream again ann shot me….

per second second faster from the winner’s line

and the lord pulled up yea-high

we drove on

throw coal to fire try to make Short Hills

lordy gathered kills - two from france and one from avalon

kill’s kitchen lazy-susan spinning down

a sure sign he’s left town

kill can’t hide

not for long

God’s button-down silk-blended shirt by ralph lauren ($65)

pants by House of Men ($95)

hair by Xi of fort lee

he had a _ _ and the slickest DA cut

a dueling scar or what

it’s so him

soooo A.D.

I gave as sexy as I got

in every vacant lot

the lord taught me a lot

SBS / CCD / 8-track of crimson & clover

drove playing it over and over

shot rock-splitter to god: carry me home

we picked up Hope who fell down faith and pulled up stakes

staking odds on bigger breaks

bottle spins (kiss)

win I spy

I spy sex becomes our crappy sad reward

for another day endured

leg on dash

hand on thigh

she said, ‘you’re on my hair! You’re on my hair! Press hard I’m almost there.
Driver, yes! Spill the wine!’

homecomings all reveal

shortcomings and old devil’s deal

I’m shot



everyone choose sides

….13 grand

a year in the meadowlands

bored and rural-poor, lord, at 35, right? I’m the best 17 year old ever

worked these sands

I won’t go back again

quitter quitter one boy bitter - rough luck

man to man hand to hand fight 40

we’re losing sand!

a wrens’ ditch battle plan

record after record black and deckered tack! tack!

definition: hell and high water

fatty come a courtin’ lord the money!

everyone choose sides

the whole to-do of what to do for money

poorer or not this year and hell’s the difference

let’s talk plans

and luck said, ‘double damned

were you give women worth winning or what?

a wasted share of shots at high-tide heaven’

greener grasses fade from where you wind up

everyone choose sides

I’m back! I’m back! So sing to raise the blind up

I’ve walked away from more than you imagine and I sleep just fine

we fought and brought up more - the shovels high up

on the 10-ton line



13 months in 6 minutes

not yet 21 - with introductions done - a first slow dance just ends.

I was at my best - we ignored the rest (my band and your friends).

But as better night became best day we left the party while last records played.

What started as dessert back at your house ended on the couch…

hours at your mouth…sunday’s on our hands. We followed where it led.

I followed you to bed. We started secret plans.

Forward 7 months: I’ve only seen you once…I never call on time.

Trying to seem tough, I said one visit’s enough - enough to keep you mine (of course it wasn’t…)

We were done by june. You’d graduate and leave for london soon.

Your layover at newark’s near my house. We met for dinner there…

just one hour to spare - your 20’s all mapped out. I’m in my driest drought

feeling old and shot and how.

And this is what I thought: I seem to still be caught…

I’m a footnote at best…I envy who comes next…wish we could just make out.

‘The hour’s almost up’, you said into your cup. And it makes no difference now, as I help lift your bags out,
that I’m lost and out of rope while on my wrist you wrote your newest number down.

I kind of said your name but you’d turned to your plane so I backed my car out.

I knew we’d never write (somehow that seemed all right) but this counts as calling three years out.



this is not what you had planned

Don’t you even know what’s right?




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Produced by Pedal Boy & the Wrens
Released 2003, Absolutely Kosher


2003


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