Decoration Day

Lyrics taken from http://www.drivebytruckers.com/

Music transcribed by Scott Holcomb (lgtsotr@earthlink.net)

"Pin hits the shell" ranscribed by Wayne Rogers

By the time you were born there were four other siblings

With your Mama awaiting your Daddy in jail

Your oldest brother was away at a home

And you didn't meet him 'til you was nineteen years old

Old enough to know better, old enough to know better

But you took to his jaw line and long sandy hair

How he made you feel like none off the others

And the way he looked at you touched you deep down in there.

So you jumped on his bike and rode into the sunset

But the sequel it started with the next morning sun

And the dew on the bike seat and you all a glow

From the love he put in you and a life on the run.

So you moved to a small town, and then to another

And then to another with another on its way

And you both swore to God you would keep it together

And the State wouldn't take your babies away

Now, the District Attorney said he might of forgiven

You had lots of reasons to turn out this way

But you'll both go to jail for them four little babies

You made and delivered along the way

Last night you had a dream about a Lord so forgiving

He might show compassion for a heathen he damned

You awoke in a jail cell, alone and so lonely

Seven years in Michigan

Spring 1998 - Athens GA.

{Inspired by a magazine article about the only two people currently serving time in

for consensual brother / sister incest.}

Lyrics by Patterson Hood / Music by Drive-By Truckers

(c)2003 Soul Dump Music (BMI)

Pedal Steel: John Neff

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SINK HOLE

X4

(Walk to G between the Em and A chords)

I've always been a religious man,

I've always been a religious man

But I met the banker and it felt like sin

He turned my bailout down

The Banker Man, he let into me

Let into me, let into me

The Banker Man, he let into me

And spread my name around

He thinks I ain't got a lick of sense

'Cause I talk slow and my money's spent

Now, I ain't the type to hold it against

But he better stay off my farm

'Cause it was my Daddy's and his Daddy's before

And his Daddy's before and his Daddy's before

Five generations and an unlocked door

And a loaded burglar alarm.

Lots of pictures of my purdy family

Lots of pictures of my purdy family

Lots of pictures of my purdy family

In the house where I was born.

House has stood through five tornadoes,

Droughts, floods, and five tornadoes.

I'd rather wrastle an alligator

Than to face the Banker's scorn

'Cause he won't even look me in the eye

He just takes my land and apologize,

With pen, paper, and a friendly smile

He says the deed is done.

The sound you hear is my Daddy spinning

The sound you hear is my Daddy spinning

The sound you hear is my Daddy spinning

Over what the Banker done.

Think I'll invite him for some pot roast beef

And mashed potatoes and sweet tea

Follow it up with some banana pudding

And a walk around the farm

Show him the view from McGee Town Hill

Let him stand in my shoes and see how it feels

To lose the last thing on earth that's real

I'd rather lose my legs and arms

Bury his body in the old sink hole

Bury his body in the old sink hole

Bury his body in the old sink hole

Under cold November sky

Then damned if I wouldn't go to church on Sunday

Damned if I wouldn't go to church on Sunday

Damned if I wouldn't go to church on Sunday

And look the Preacher in the eye.

June 2001 - I-65 South, Mobile, AL.

{ Inspired by "The Accountant", a short film by Ray McKinnon.

Academy Award (r) Winner Best Live Action Short Film 2001; www.ginnymule.com}

Lyrics by Patterson Hood / Music by Drive-By Truckers

(c)2003 Soul Dump Music (BMI)

__________________________________________________________________________________________

HELL NO, I AIN'T HAPPY

(play the above riff after each E > G > A lyric)

There's a lot of bad wood underneath the veneer

She's an overnight sensation after twenty-five years

Sharp fast curves, power steering

Unroll that twenty, buy me some beer

Ain't too bad, too bad at all

Pick up the phone if I ever call

Hell No, I Ain't Happy.

Hell No, I Ain't Happy.

Hell No, I Ain't Happy.

There's a purdy little girl outside the van window

Bout eighyy cities down, eight hundred to go

Six crammed in, we ain't never alone

Never homesick, ain't got no home

Check my mail if you would please, Jenn

Collect my things till I'm in town again

Hell No, I Ain't Happy.

Hell No, I Ain't Happy.

Hell No, I Ain't Happy.

But I get a little closer everyday

Gonna be a long time till I'm back your way.

I've seen just how much I can stand

One night in Kansas City, we thought about killing a man

Seen my number fly by on Interstate Ten

Seen the mountains of Montana at seven AM.

And I keep it all together for the sake of the kids

Got your fine-ass self on the back of my lids

Hell No, I Ain't Happy.

Hell No, I Ain't Happy.

Hell No, I Ain't Happy.

But I ain't too crappy

Not I ain't too crappy, too crappy at all.

Oh no

Jan. 2002 - Highway 666, somewhere in Southern Utah

based on a title from a year earlier.

Lyrics by Patterson Hood / Music by Drive-By Truckers

(c)2003 Soul Dump Music (BMI)

Wurlitzer Piano: David Barbe

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

MARRY ME

Well, my daddy didn't pull out

But he never apologized

Rock and Roll means well

But it can't help tellin' young boys lies.

A baby on the way's a good enough reason

To get you out alive

Get you out without having to swallow any pride.

All my friends are restless

All they do is talk it down,

Two or eight lanes, it don't matter

It's just another town.

There's a fool on every corner

On every street, in every one

And I'd rather be your fool nowhere

Than go somewhere and be no one's

So Marry Me, Sweet Thing won't you Marry Me

Your Mama thinks I beat anything she's ever seen.

This old town's alright with me, there's nowhere I'd rather be.

Long as they stay mad at one another, they can't get mad at me

Every time I leave here

Something bad happens to me

Like a busted hand or finding some man

Laying where I sleep

She don't mean nothing to me

That's just how it goes round here

It's a cartoon town, I play my part

And I ain't spoke her name in years

So Marry Me, Sweet Thing won't you Marry Me

Your Mama thinks I beat anything she's ever seen.

This old town's alright with me, there's nowhere I'd rather be.

Long as they stay mad at one another, they can't get mad at me

I don't want anything I done

To be nobody's fault

Even if they got more money and mouth

Than they got balls.

That's just how it went down

Right or wrong, it's just that way.

Just cause I don't run my mouth

Don't mean I got nothing to say

So Marry Me, Sweet Thing won't you Marry Me

Your Mama thinks I beat anything she's ever seen.

This old town's alright with me, there's nowhere I'd rather be.

Long as they stay mad at one another, they can't get mad at me

So Marry Me, Sweet Thing won't you Marry Me

So Marry Me, Sweet Thing won't you Marry Me

Lyrics by Mike Cooley / Music by Drive-By Truckers

(c)Wayward Johnson's Music (BMI)

Upright Piano: David Barbe / Jagger Harmony: Clay Leaverett

____________________________________________________________________________________________

Me and my Annette, we was as fond as we could be

We was set to marry in October 33

I set my sights on courtin' her, as fine as she could be

I never even noticed her best friend Marilee

Took a job at the saw mill and I bought my girl a ring

Had a pre-wedding party, close friends and family

Everything was fine, eatin' homemade ice cream

I swear I never noticed maid of honor, Marilee

My Sweet Annette was left standing at the al-tar.

My Sweet Annette was left standing at the al-tar.

Marilee was taken ill, it was several miles from home

Back then it wasn't fittin' for a girl to leave alone

Sweet Annette, she asked me to walk her to the door

As innocent as children back before the war

My Sweet Annette was left standing at the al-tar.

My Sweet Annette was left standing at the al-tar.

Lord have mercy for what we done

Lord have mercy when two people get alone

Neither one of us had done anything like that you see

By the next sunset, I had eloped with Marilee,

By the next sunset, I had eloped with Marilee,

By the next sunset, I had eloped with Marilee,

My Sweet Annette was left standing at the al-tar.

May 2000 - Dayton, OH.

Lyrics by Patterson Hood / Music by Drive-By Truckers

(c)2003 Soul Dump Music (BMI)

Pedal Steel: John Neff / Fiddle: Scott Danborn / High Harmony: Clay Leaverett

____________________________________________________________________________________________

OUTFIT

You wanna grow up to paint houses like me

With a trailer in my yard 'til you're twenty-three

You wanna feel old after forty-two years

Keep droppin' the hammer and grindin' the gears

Well, I used to go out in a Mustang

It was a three-o-two Mach one in green

Me and your mama made you in the back

And I sold it to buy her a ring

I learned not to say much of nothin'

So I'll figure you already know

But in case you don't, or maybe forgot

I'll lay it out real nice and slow

Don't call what you're wearin' an outfit

Don't ever say your car is broke

Don't worry 'bout losin' your accent

A southern man tells better jokes

Have fun and stay clear of the needle

Call home on your sister's birthday

Don't tell'em you're bigger than Jesus

Don't give it away

Don't give it away

Five years in a Saint Florine foundry

They call it Industrial Park

Then hospital maintenance and tech school

So I could memorize Frigidare parts

But I got to missin' your mama

And I got to missin' you, too

I went back to paintin' for my old man

And I guess that's what I'll always do

So don't let'em take who you are, boy

And don't try to be who you ain't

And don't let me catch you in Kendale

With a bucket of wealthy-man's paint

Don't call what you're wearin' an outfit

Don't ever say your car is broke

Don't sing with a fake British accent

Don't act like your family's a joke

Have fun and stay clear of the needle

Call home on your sister's birthday

Don't tell'em you're bigger than Jesus

Don't give it away

Don't give it away

Lyrics and Music by Jason Isbell

(c) 2002 House of Fame Publishing (BMI)

Pedal Steel: John Neff / High Harmony: Clay Leaverett

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

HEATHENS

Main Riff:

Use this riff for all G > C instances.

The top notes can be lightly strummed on the top three

strings for a fuller sound.

Something about the wrinkle in your forehead

Tells me there's a fit about to get thrown

If we get the van out of the ditch before morning

Ain't nobody got to know what I done

And I never hear a single word you say

When you tell me not to have my fun

It's the same old shit that

I ain't gonna take off anyone.

And I don't need to be forgiven

By them people in the neighborhood

When we first hooked up, you looked me in the eye

And said "Paw, we just ain't no good".

We were Heathens in their eyes at the time,

I guess I am just a Heathen still

And I never have repented from the wrongs

That they say I have done, I done what I feel.

It was a difficult delivery,

Now it's growing up mean and strong

When you tell me that it's getting a little bit tight,

Ain't the first time I been outgrown

And I'm gonna push a little harder

She ain't revved till the rods are thrown

I'll walk away

And I don't need to be forsaken

By you or anybody else

And I never had a shortage of people tryin' to warn me

About the dangers I pose to myself.

Heathens.

These times can take their toll sometimes

And I know you feel the same way, too

It gets so hard to keep between the ditches

When the roads wind the way they do.

Oct. 1998 - Willard's Garage, Richmond VA./

Jan. 1999 - Tammy's yard, Athens, GA. /

June 2000 - Marianne's house, Denton TX.

Lyrics by Patterson Hood / Music / Music by Drive-By Truckers

(c) 2003 Soul Dump Music (BMI)

Pedal Steel: John Neff / Fiddle: Scott Danborn (Thanks Centro-Matic)

______________________________________________________________________________________________

SOUNDS BETTER IN THE SONG

When I saw her standing there

With her bright eyes and shining hair,

She was looking back at me.

Some are meant to sing

Some are meant to talk

And some aren't meant to say a thing.

But when she opened up her mouth

And that sweet voice came out

I lost track of my own name.

Now she's found herself, and I lost mine

And I'm just another guy

Who can't give her anything.

Well, the drifter, he holds on

To his youth

Just like it was money in the bank.

And "Lord knows, I can't change"

Sounds better in the song

Than it does with hell to pay.

I might as well of slipped that ring

On her finger from a window

Of a van as it drove away.

Now she's found herself, and I lost mine

And I'm just another guy

Who can't give her anything.

Dreams are given to you

When you're young enough to dream them

Before they can do you any harm.

They don't start to hurt

Until you try to hold on to them

After seeing how they really are.

She used to dream them with me

Every single crazy one,

Until they started hurting her, too, now she's got some of her own

And outgrowing me

Might be the best thing for her she's ever done.

A light that shines as bright

As hers can't be kept

In the shadows for too long.

A heart that wants to live

And a soul that wants to give

Can't just sit at home alone.

Lord, she's gave me everything

And never wanted anything

I couldn't give, just what was inside of me.

And now she's found herself, and I lost mine

And I'm just another guy

Who can't give her anything.

And now she's found herself, and I lost mine

And I'm just another guy

Who can't give her anything.

Lyrics by Mike Cooley / Music by Drive-By Truckers

(c) Wayward Johnson's Music (BMI)

Upright Bass: Shonna Tucker ('Activate the Wonder Twins!')

_______________________________________________________________________________________________

(SOMETHING'S GOT TO) GIVE PRETTY SOON

Way you look at me like that

Something's got to give pretty soon

Throw it on a camel's back

Something's got to give pretty soon

Living hard to chase the dream

Way beyond our ways and means

Yours don't mean a goddamn thing.

That's what you said, but, don't believe it.

That shattered look upon your face

Something's got to give pretty soon.

Swallow, but can't stand the taste

Bark at the wind, chase the moon

Living fast and drinking lots

List of things we haven't got.

Tired of life with the have-nots

That's what you said and I believe it.

Maybe what you need's for someone to send you flowers

Someone strong and mean who can prove he has the power to

Show you more than charm and take you on your way

To where you want to be at the end of the day

And it breaks my heart in two to know it ain't meant to be

But, it ain't me. It ain't me.

And you say it's these things I do

About me that's attracted you

So if I started doing something else

What would we have left.

And you say you just want compromise

Then act so different all the time.

These reasons why you said goodbye

Just another way of telling lies.

Something's got to give, got to give pretty soon

Or else we're gonna lose the very things that made it bloom

Sitting in silence in a cold and lonely room

While the world goes on around us

Something's got to give, got to give pretty soon

Or else we're gonna hate each other

And that would be the saddest thing I ever seen.

Lyrics by Patterson Hood / Music by Drive-By Truckers

(c) 2003 Soul Dump Music (BMI)

Keyboard: David Barbe

___________________________________________________________________________________________

YOUR DADDY HATES ME

I know your Daddy hates me

And I got a room in hell reserved.

I know he wants to kill me

And it's the least that I deserve

But I always loved your Daddy

That's something that I know you know.

Just sometimes don't do what I ought to

Sometimes I yes when I should no.

I know your Daddy hates me

And I drink more than a whale

But my failures ain't for lack of trying

It's just a little too late now to prevail.

You always knew I was a screw up

Long before I screwed us up.

You just said it endeared you to me

But in the end you just gave up

And I always loved your Daddy

I loved your Mama even more

And I always loved their daughter

That's for sure.

I know your Daddy hates me

I know I'd probably hate me too.

But, I also know you don't hate me

Even though you'd probably like to and ought to.

And it's a little too late for writing love songs

But I never did anything on time.

Happiness on your big adventure.

See you Darling down the line.

Lyrics by Patterson Hood / Music by Drive-By Truckers

(c) 2003 Soul Dump Music (BMI)

Additional Guitar: David Barbe

__________________________________________________________________________________________

CARELESS

Careful that you don't

Use up your ninth one

We all were careless once

We all were careless once.

It can't be too much fun

Just going round once

It all can slip away

One banana peel away.

You left this big ole void

Sure miss your sweet voice

Gone into the void

We all were careless once

We all were careless once

We all were careless once

We all were careless once

We all were careless once.

June 1996, for Monster.

Lyrics by Patterson Hood / Music by Drive-By Truckers

(c) 2003 Soul Dump Music

_______________________________________________________________________________________

PIN HITS THE SHELL

(Transcription by Wayne Rogers)

You can lie to your Mama, you can lie to your race

but you can't lie to nobody with that cold steel in your face.

And the same God that you're so afraid is gonna send you to hell

is the same one you're gonna answer to when the pin hits the shell.

Your sister's been blaming everybody.

I don't blame her, man, I guess I'd do the same

if you was my brother, man, I'd probably stand by you.

But you ain't, man, so I got to go my way.

And I ain't gonna crawl upon no high horse

Cause I got thrown off of one

when I was young and I ain't no cowboy

so I ain't going where I don't belong.

It wouldn't do you no good to let you know that it damned near killed

me too

so I ain't gonna mourn for you, man, now that you're gone.

Picked interlude

Me and you, we liked our pills and our whiskey.

But you don't want your head full of either one when

the house gets quiet and dark.

Feeling good it used to be so damned easy,

racing trains from 2nd Street to Avalon.

Take a trip down memory lane,

You don't see no friendly faces

all the houses have been painted and

nobody knows your name.

It's enough to make a man not want

to be nobody's Daddy,

when all he thinks he's got left to hand down is guilt and shame.

And I ain't gonna crawl upon no high horse

Cause I got thrown off of one

when I was young and I ain't no cowboy

so I ain't going where I don't belong.

It wouldn't do you no good to let you know that it damned near killed

me too

so I ain't gonna mourn for you, man, now that you're gone.

You can lie to your Mama, you can lie to your race

but you can't lie to nobody with that cold steel in your face.

And the same God that you're so afraid is gonna send you to hell

is the same one you're gonna answer to when the pin hits the shell.

Lyrics by Mike Cooley / Music by Drive-By Truckers

(c) 2001 Wayward Johnson's Music (BMI)

Star Wars Wurlitzer Solo: Spooner Oldham

____________________________________________________________________________________________

DO IT YOURSELF

(chords submitted by Cynthia Markey)

(In drop D tuning)

My Daddy called me on a Friday morning

So sad to tell me just what you'd done

You tried so hard to make us all hate you

But in the end you was the only one

Sick, tired, pissed and wired

You never thought about anyone else.

You tried in vain to find something to kill you

In the end you had to do it yourself.

Who's to blame for the loveless marriage

Who's to blame for the broken band.

You ran from life and all of it's pleasures

Your own teeth marks on your own damned hand.

Thrown out before the date's expired

You'd rather die than let anyone help,

You'd rather die than take a stab at living.

Nothing would kill you so you do it yourself.

Everyone has those times when the night's so long

The dead-end life just drags you down

You lean back under the microphone

And turn your demons into walls of goddamned noise and sound.

And it's a sorry thing to do to your sweet sister

It's a sorry thing to do to your little boy

It's a sorry thing to do to the folks who love you

Your Mama and Daddy lost their only boy

Some should say I should cut you slack

But you worked so hard at unhappiness.

Living too hard just couldn't kill you

In the end you had to do it yourself.

Living too hard just couldn't kill you

In the end you had to do it yourself.

D A E (On last E go berzerk and randomly hammer the high E 3rd Fret a few times

your pinky while strumming)

____________________________________________________________________________________________

Chords:

It's Decoration Day.

And I've a mind to roll a stone on his grave.

But what would he say.

"Keeping me down, boy, won't keep you away".

It's Decoration Day.

And I knew the Hill Boys would put him away,

But my Daddy wasn't afraid.

He said "We'll fight till the last Lawson's last living day"

I never knew how it all got started

A problem with Holland before we were born

And I don't know the name of that boy we tied down

And beat till he just couldn't walk anymore.

But I know the caliber in Daddy's chest

And I know what Holland Hill drives.

The state let him go, but I guess it was best

'Cause nobody needs all us Lawsons alive.

Daddy said one of the boys had come by

The Lumber Man's favorite son.

He said, "Beat him real good but don't dare let him die

And if you see Holland Hill run.

Now I said, "they ain't give us trouble before

That we ain't brought down on ourselves"

Put a chain on my back and my ear to the floor

And I'll send all the Hill Boys to hell.

I'll send all the Hill Boys to hell.

It's Decoration Day

And I've got a family in Mobile Bay

And they've never seen my Daddy's grave.

But that don't bother me, it ain't marked anyway.

'Cause I got dead brothers in Lauderdale south

And I got dead brothers in east Tennessee.

My Daddy got shot right in front of his house

He had no one to fall on but me.

It's Decoration Day

And I've got a mind to go spit on his grave.

If I was a Hill, I'd have put him away

And I'd fight till the last Lawson's last living day.

I'd fight till the last Lawson's last living day.

I'd fight till the last Lawson's last living day.

(pause and drum intro.)

Lyrics and Music by Jason Isbell

(c) 2002 House of Fame Music (BMI)

____________________________________________________________________________________________

LOADED GUN IN THE CLOSET

Transcription by Paul Deaver

DBT songs are typically done in standard "EADGBe" tuning, only tuned down a whole step

"DGCFAd". Rather than confuse players, chords are shown as standard ESDGBe ones even

they're actually played down a step.

Loaded Gun is different. It's played in Open C tuning. The song is basically three

played normally, sus2, and sus4 by moving around 1 fret or two on the "e" and high "C"

Cooley plays around on the chords a lot, and from time to time, picks the melody on the

C string. Once you've played around with Open C, you'll find it's fairly easy to sort out.

From here on, tunings are actual notes in Open C tuning.

===CHORDS===

Tuning C F G

c | 0 5 0

C | 0 5 7

C | 0 5 7

Note 1: Sample "C" riff w/ sus2 & sus4

c | 0 2 0 0 2 0

C | 0 0 0 0 0 0

C | x x x x x 0

Note 2: Strum the F & G chords string-by-string as if they were picked.

He's got a loaded gun in the closet

and another one in the dresser drawer

just in case the one in the closet

didn't make a big enough hole.

She had his breakfast ready every morning

and his lunch in a box sitting out by the kitchen door.

She'd make sure he had everything he needed

and hug his neck and tell him how much she loved him

and it was beautiful. You should have seen it.

[ ... ]

Lyrics by Mike Cooley / Music by Drive-By Truckers

(c) 2003 Wayward Johnson's Music (BMI)

Pedal Steel: John Neff