Mr. Fucking Fame-Ass

Mr. Fucking Fame-Ass

He comes stumbling down the trail beer in his hand

Talking like he’s headed for the promised land

Says he’s gonna make it, says he’s gonna be the star

Like the Greenbridge swimming hole’s some kind of famous bar

He knows a few songs from beginning to end

Then he runs his mouth about every musician friend

But you can’t even read a chart because you have no clue

When we tried to teach you something new, you stand there not knowing what to do

He’s got a mouth like a busted amp

All feedback no soul, no groove

Talks like you own the whole damn song

But even your tuning is extremely wrong

Oh Mr. Fame-Ass, out in the woods,

Running that mouth like a fool thinks he should

You’ll be famous sure—but not for your class

Just for being the Greenbridge drunken lame-ass

Nobody came here to kiss your ass

They came to play, not praise Mr Fucking Fame-Ass

Greenbridge is a swimming hole under the trees

Bare feet in the dirt and smoke on the breeze

Naked hippies show with cowbells and drums

Guitars on their backs and the warm afternoon sun

People come down from wherever they’ve been

To splash in the water and play with friends

Some know every chord, some might know just one

But everybody has a place when the rhythm starts to run

Oh, Mr. Fame-Ass out in the woods

Running that mouth like a fool thinks he should

You’ll be famous sure—but not for your class

Just for being the Greenbridge drunken lame-ass

No tickets, no cover no backstage pass

Nobody came here to kiss your ass.

They came to play not be your fan—

Mr. Fame-Ass, you don’t understand

Nobody cares if an F chord lands wrong

Everybody just plays right along

Nobody complains through the whole damn song

They find the beat and simply carry it on

It might get crooked it might get strange

Somebody misses when the key should change

But that’s all right beneath the open sky—

You listen laugh and let the rough notes fly

You talk like a star but you can’t read a chart

Can’t take direction can’t play your part

You came down here only to harass

But you need to spend some time in an actual music class

Learn the changes, learn the key

Learn that the song ain’t all about “look at me”

If you really want to be something to see

Learn a hundred songs then learn some more

Before you come stomping down to this rocky shore

Oh, Mr Fame-Ass, you can brag all day

But nobody came here to hear what you say

The Greenbridge ain’t no ladder

No one here has a backstage pass

It’s a swimming hole deep in the woods—

Not a stage for your drunk-ass act.

No tickets, no cover no money to make

Just cold creek water beneath the trees

No one is raising a glass to you—

Mr fucking lame-ass

Oh, Mr. fucking Fame-Ass,

You came to this bridge just to harass

I’ll give you this—you made me laugh

Next time cut your attitude in half

Deep in the woods where the cold water runs

Cowbells and guitars hand drums in the sun

Everybody plays Everybody laughs.

But there ain’t nobody here who’ll raise a glass

To Mr. FUCKING FAME-ASS