BOOM TOWN | OFFICIAL LYRICS

Back On Top

Now I’ve been pulled down,

pushed around prodded and poked.

I’ve been beat on, mistreated on, strangled and choked

Now I’m lettin’ you go; I’m at the end of my rope

Cause I’m back on top again.

 

I’m gonna stand on my own, woman I’ve had enough

You’re a liar and a cheater, now I’m calling your bluff

Get lost do your cheatin’, with somebody else.

Cause I’m back on top again.

 

No, I won’t be lookin’ back; I will not live in the past.

I’ll move on down the road, pushin’ hard on the gas.

You may have been first but honey now you are last.

Cause I’m back on top again.

 

Well I’ve learned my lesson gonna make a new start.

I’ll find a good lover, who won’t step on my heart.

I’ll grow from my mistakes next time I’ll be smart.

Cause I’m back on top again.

 

Words and Music: Stephen L. Dees

Copyright © Stephen Leslie Dees Music 09/22/2013

 

 

Boom Town

Headin’ up to boom town, gonna’ strike it rich.

Headin’ up to boom town, I’m gonna’ make my pitch

Time to bring the house down; all you high rollers beware.

Ain’t gonna fool around. Bring it on all you losers and squares.

Got my lucky boots on; toss the dice, let ‘em roll.

I’m a cool rockin’ daddy and I’m headin’ up to boom town.

And I’m gonna’ roll all night long.

 

Don’t try to talk me down, ‘cuz I will not blink.

Ain’t gonna’ take me long, I’ll be in the pink.

Got my mojo hand on; with the hoodoo in my step.

Doggin’ till the break of dawn; hey man, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.

Fingers on the knuckle bones, let it snap look out Mack.

I’m a cool rockin’ daddy and I’m headin’ up to boom town.

And I’m gonna’ rock all night long.

Boom Town.

 

Headin’ up to boom town, gonna’ get my fix.

Headin’ up to boom town, scratch my itch.

Time to bring the house down; all you high rollers beware.

Ain’t gonna fool around. Bring it on all you losers and squares.

Got my lucky boots on; toss the dice, let ‘em roll.

I’m a cool rockin’ daddy and I’m headin’ up to boom town.

And I’m gonna’ roll all night long.

Boom Town.

 

Words and Music: Stephen L. Dees

Copyright © 2013 

 

 

Genuine Southern Hospitality

Grandma’s in the kitchen cookin’ cornbread and butter beans.

The kids are on the porch watchin’ daddy churn the peach ice cream.

Smiles on the faces of family and the friends I love.

Steeped in tradition and blessed by the Lord above.

Ya’ll Come to the table and get yourself a seat.

Join hands say your prayers give thanks, it’s time to eat.

 

And have a heapin’ helpin’ of southern hospitality.

Pan fried genuine southern hospitality.

Make yourself at home.

 

Down the road a piece, up yonder near an old cypress tree.

There’s a party goin’ on back in the woods and they don’t close till half past three.

Meet me out back we’ll have a pull off the big brown jug. 

Put on your dancin’ shoes we’re bound to burn a hole in the rug.

Play your guitars pound them 88’s, gonna be a jam tonight, I can’t wait.

 

Have a heapin’ helpin’ of southern hospitality.

Pan fried, genuine southern hospitality.

Make yourself at home.

 

I can feel a rumble in the distance; roll freight train roll.

Hey conductor, pull the cord, I wanna hear that lonesome whistle blow.

Take me back oh sweet sound to the glory days.

When I was just a boy runnin’ free on the blues highway. 

Wind on my face movin’ down the track, its times like these that keep me comin’ back.

 

To have a heapin’ helpin’ of southern hospitality.

Pan fried genuine southern hospitality.

Sure nuff know deep in my soul what’s good for me.

A big heapin’ helpin’ of southern hospitality. 

Bona fide genuine southern hospitality… That’s Right!

 

Words and Music: Stephen L. Dees

Copyright © Stephen Leslie Dees Music 03/2012

 

 

If it Ain’t Got Soul (Part 1)

I play my music with heart and hand; make a good livin’ in a road house band.

We love to play; our aim is true, hittin’ a groove, that’s what we do.

Sisters and brothers spread the news; the Roots are comin’ to lay down the Blues.

In a boogie style with a down home strut,

straight from the heart, and straight from the gut.

Way down deep let the truth be told, if it ain’t got soul it don’t roll!

 

From Town to town on solid ground, me and the band sure gets around.

Come hear us jump, jive, and swing, rockin’ the house, doin’ our thing.

Raisin’ sand, ready to clown, let’s hit the road, we’re rhythm bound.

Now lift me up, way on high, turn me loose, Lord it’s time to fly.

‘Cuz way down deep the let truth be told, if it ain’t got soul, it don’t roll!

                                                                                     

Of all the masters that came before, led the way, and opened up that door

Aretha, Brother Ray, James Brown, the king; they all knew that one essential thing.

You gotta play what you feel, and mean what you play.

Tell the truth, it’s the only way.

Let it flow from your head down to your feet.

You are the groove, you are the beat.

‘Cuz way down deep let the truth be told if it ain’t got soul, it don’t roll!

 

If it ain’t got soul [It don’t roll.]

If it ain’t got soul [It don’t roll.]

One thing I know [It don’t roll.]

If it ain’t got soul [It don’t roll.]

Let the truth be told

If it ain’t got soul [It don’t roll.]

Yes there’s one thing I know [It don’t roll.]

If it ain’t got soul [It don’t roll.]

 

Now, way down deep, let the truth be told.

If it ain’t got soul [It don’t roll!]   

 

Words and Music: Stephen L. Dees

Copyright © 10/05/2012 Stephen Leslie Dees Music

 

 

Piana’s Savannah Boogie

Instrumental

 

Music: Victor Wainwright

Copyright © Victor Lawton Wainwright Music 2014

 

 

Reaper’s on the Prowl

Hear the reaper on the prowl?

Try to take me when I sleep.

But I’m not givin’ up now, ain’t gonna make a sound or a peep.

Not me, no how.

Reaper’s on the prowl.

 

You know I’ve been pretty good, say all my prayers.

So why ya creepin’ ‘round my door?

Stop that sniffin’ up in here.

Hell no, I ain’t ready to go!

Reaper’s on the prowl.

Go away from my door, stop creepin’ ‘round here.

 

You took my mother and my brother too.

And why did my daddy have to suffer?

I guess that’s just what you had to do.

But not me, no how go away reaper on the prowl.

 

Go away from my door I don’t want you around here no more.

Stop all that prowlin’, stop all that growlin’.

Hell no, I ain’t ready to go!

Reaper’s on the prowl.

 

Words and Music: Stephen L. Dees

Copyright © Stephen Leslie Dees Music [Copyright 8/27/13]

 

 

Saturday Night Sunday Morning

In Church last Sunday I was startin’ to snooze,

when preacher caught me layin’ down in the pews.

He said wake up son you better hear the news

The Lords gonna take away all your blues

 

After Saturday night, comes Sunday Mornin’

Preacher says, you better heed my warning

Come Sunday mornin’ get yourself right, after raisin’ hell on Saturday night.

 

It’s time to leave your sinful ways behind.

Get out of the dark, where the sun is shinin’.

Shake the dust off that ole’ hymn book.

Grab a tambourine, get on the good foot.

 

After Saturday night, comes Sunday Mornin’

Preacher says, you better heed my warning

Come Sunday mornin’ get yourself right, after raisin’ hell on Saturday night.

 

Now I take my faith wherever I go

In the honky tonks and out on the road.

Tonight’s the night we’re gonna rock our soul

First thing tomorrow, gonna pay the toll

 

After Saturday night, comes Sunday Mornin’

Preacher says, you gotta heed my warning

Come Sunday mornin’ get yourself right, after raisin’ hell on Saturday night.

 

In Church last Sunday I was startin’ to snooze,

when preacher caught me layin’ down in the pews.

He said wake up son you better hear the news

The Lords gonna take away all your blues

 

After Saturday night, comes Sunday Mornin’

Preacher says, you better heed my warning

Sunday mornin’ get yourself right, after raisin’ hell on Saturday night.

 

Saturday night, Sunday Mornin’

Saturday night, you better heed his warning

Come Sunday mornin’ get yourself right, after raisin’ hell on Saturday night.

 

Words and Music: Victor Wainwright/Stephen Leslie Dees

Copyright © 2013 Victor Lawton Wainwright Music/Stephen Leslie Dees Music

 

 

Stop Bossin’ Me Baby

You’re a hot headed woman, mean as can be all you ever do is rag on me.

Stop bossin’ me baby, you’re always pushin’ me round.

Bite your tongue, zip your lip, if you don’t lighten up you’re gonna’ sink our ship.

Stop bossin’ me baby, you’re always bringin’ me down.

 

If you don’t like me woman, the way I am, then get on out and get another man.

Stop bossin’ me baby, you’re always pushin’ me round.

You ain’t no cat, and I’m no mouse, chill out child, or get outta’ my house.

Stop bossin’ me baby,you’re always bringin’ me down.

 

But oh when we love, you’re my little turtle dove, but when you push and shove, it’s time to get out them gloves.

 

Give it a rest, it’s time you try get off my back girl I ain’t lyin’.

Stop bossin’ me baby, you’re always pushin’ me round.

Bite your tongue, zip your lip, if you don’t lighten up you’re gonna’ sink our ship.

Stop bossin’ me baby you’re always bringin’ me down.

 

But oh when we love, you’re my little turtle dove, but when you push and shove it’s time to get out them gloves.

 

Won’t cha’ give it a rest, it’s time you try, get off my back girl I ain’t lyin’.

Stop bossin’ me baby, you’re always pushin’ me round.

 

You ain’t no cat, and I’m no mouse, chill out child or get out my house.

Stop bossin’ me baby, you’re always bringin’ me down.

 

Stop  bossin’ me baby, Stop bossin’ me baby, You’re drivin’ me crazy.

Stop bossin’ me baby, stop bossin’ me baby.

You’re always bringing me down.   

 

Words and Music: Stephen L. Dees

Copyright © Stephen Leslie Dees Music May 18, 2013

 

 

The Devil’s Bite

Now listen to my story a cautionary tale, about an evil temptress straight from hell.

I’m qualified to tell it I knew her quite well. Now she’s hot on your trail.

 

She’s driven by her hunger to dominate a man.

She’s got you in her sights it’s feeding time again.

Your life is in danger about to end. Be careful my friend.

Beware the devils’ bite. Beware the devils’ bite.

 

She’ll lead you to the table, but you don’t have to eat.

You’ll think you are her guest; in fact you are the feast.

Led to the slaughter, by a very clever beast; she’ll make you weep. Beware the devils’ bite. Beware.

 

Consumed by your lust that’s when she’ll gain your trust.

The demon hound’s wagging her tail you better make tracks or you’ll end up in hell.

 

Her kiss it will betray you, the serpents’ tongue is sweet.

You won’t see it comin’ till you’re down on your knees.

Takes just what she wants don’t care who bleeds.

It’s time you got wise. Beware the devils’ bite. Beware.

 

The ones that came before you suffer till this day.

Their scars will never heal, their memory never fades.

You won’t ever be the same once she’s had her way with you.

That girl is taboo. Now you know what to do. 

Beware the devils’ bite. Beware. The devils’ bite.

Beware… the devils’ bite.

 

Words and Music: Stephen Dees

Copyright © Stephen Leslie Dees Music 10/05/2012

 

 

TWO-LANE BLACKTOP

90 miles an hour, got my pedal to the floor

Engine’s runnin’ hot, but I keep pushing it for more

Got a gig tonight in Memphis, I love to play that town

Come 10 o’clock I’ll be rockin’ out, no time to fool around

Well I’m runnin’ late, no time to stop

Burnin’ up this two-lane blacktop. Blacktop

 

Just outside of Tupelo I heard a crazy sound

Mercy me my Mercury, don’t give up on me now.

Well smoke it came a risin’ from underneath my hood

Well lady luck let’s work it out things aint’ lookin’ good.

I can’t believe I gotta stop,

I’m stranded on this two-lane blacktop. Blacktop

 

Cooled down that radiator, got a full tank of gas

Back up on blacktop, time for haulin’ ass.

Looked up in my mirror, what do you think I saw?

The pride of Fulton County, that no good Johnny Law.

I don’t wanna deal with this dog-gone cop,

I’m busted on this two-lane blacktop.

Well I’m out of time and I’m about to drop.

Busted on this two-lane blacktop. Blacktop Blacktop

 

Oh mercy baby I’m busted on this … two lane blacktop.

 

Words and Music: Stephen Dees, Victor Wainwright

Copyright © 2005 Stephen Leslie Dees Music/Victor Lawton Wainwright Music/BMI

 

 

When the Day is Done

I believe something better one fine day’s bound to come

I’ll be faithful and patient. Lord I pray that it won’t be long

 

Take me down to the river, save my soul Holy son.

Wash away all my sorrow I’ll be ready when the day is done.

 

Though I walk in the shadow, I am drawn to the light.

I will lay down my burden, save my soul from the long dark night.

 

Let my spirit be lifted on the wings of a dove.

In the glory eternal in the arms of abiding love.

 

Help me lord give me hope in my darkest hour.

Keep me on a just and righteous path.

 

I’ll seek the truth embrace the hope one day I’ll be free.

When angels sing songs of joy in perfect harmony.

 

So, take me down to the river, save my soul Holy son.

Wash away all my sorrows, I’ll be ready when the day is done.

 

I believe something better, one fine day’s bound to come

I’ll be faithful and patient. Lord I pray that it won’t be long

I’ll be ready when the day is done.

 

Words and Music: Stephen L. Dees

Copyright © 06/2013 Stephen Leslie Dees Music

 

 

WildRoot Farm

You know when I get worn down from travelin' so much

I just wanna get back South.. on that back porch with the Big ole oak tree Gumbo cookin on the stove...

Down at the WildRoot farm

 

Travel due south down the Dixie highway, a quarter of a mile east of Pelican Bay.

You’ll find the WildRoot Farm; come get it where the gettin’ is good.

No you won’t regret it.

 

Kick off your shoes time to let down your hair.

Rest your weary soul; take a breath of fresh air.

Down on the WildRoot Farm; come get it where the gettin’ is good.

 

Sing for me some more...

 

Hey there good lookin’, smell that gumbo cookin’ right now, don’t you wanna’ have some?

You know I DO... Give Me 2 bowls

With vine ripe tomatoes and Daddy’s sweet potatoes, our stew is second to none.

 

Piana’s taken’ five in his old easy chair.

Ain’t got no worries, no troubles no cares.

Down on the WildRoot Farm; get it where the gettin’ is good.

 

Alright professor, play us that sweet melody

 

Hey there good lookin’ smell that gumbo cookin’ right now, don’t you wanna’ have some?

With vine ripe tomatoes and Daddy’s sweet potatoes, our stew is second to none.

 

Travel due south down the Dixie highway, a quarter of a mile east of Pelican Bay.

You’ll find the WildRoot Farm; get it where the gettin’ is

WildRoot Farm, I know you won’t regret it

On the WildRoot Farm, come get it where the gettin’ is

Get it where the gettin’ is good.

 

Words and Music: Stephen L. Dees

Copyright © Stephen Leslie Dees Music 2013 

 

 

 

WildRoot Rumble

Instrumental

 

Music: Stephen L. Dees

Copyright © Stephen Leslie Dees Music 2013