The Milky Sessions

by The '88 Rangers

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Recorded at Project Sound in Haverhill, Massachusetts.


released April 1, 2011

Jason Duguay - Sound Engineer



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The '88 Rangers Lowell, Massachusetts

Rock & Roll straight out of Lowell, Massachusetts

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Track Name: Workin' For The Money
Well, I'm working for the money, but the money's working me
Cursing out the system, but the system's got me beat
My mother always told me that it doesn't grow on trees
Now I'm working for the money, but the money's working me

When I was a kid, I swore it never so
Swore I'd never fold and become just an average Joe
Now I break my back, make the richer even richer
Pour some salt onto this wound, and make this downfall even quicker

And just the other day, I saw the iron fist
Crushing down the working man who's too scared to resist
Too easy to replace, too back-broken to chase
The rabbit on the fence in this corporate rat-race
Track Name: The Open Road
Nomads in rags who have seen a million lands
Tell me that there's no such thing as “home”
Every mountain top, and abandoned parking lot
Is just a resting stop

And Mr. Hermit in his house drinks his burgundy and stout
Tells me that there's no place quite like home
And if you can believe it son, I never wanna leave it, boy
I tell you so

And I can't help but feel
I feel a little homesick, In my homestead
Yeah I'm homesick in my home

Well, I can't be living right to keep my shoes on every night
And sleeping sound with one foot out that door
I know the open road has its promise, so I'm told
I don't need to be sold

And all the twists, and the turns in the roads around the world
Will change the sights, but sure won't change the feel
The hermit may shine, but the nomad in my mind won't
Give up the fight
Track Name: Three Quarters
You've read of liberation, suffrage, and the ones who risked their necks
But the men who write them history books are the same that sign your checks
I've seen your mop and bucket in the parlors of the rich
It seems that missing chromosome is worth its weight in shit

You played your office politics, got taken for a ride
But your boss has hairy knuckles and palms, and misogynistic pride
The months turn into quarters, and three quarters of the time
You only make three quarters of their dollars and their dimes

And I see Rosie driving rivets, but old Rosie's short on rent
Not far gone are days of breadlines, dust-bowls, and lament
You traded cuffs and aprons for a briefcase and a tie
Still, you make three quarters of their dollars and their dimes