hallucinogenic component and a powerful opiate. Rufus would stumble around town muttering, “Bad choices, man, I made a lot of bad choices.”

In his youth, Rufus fancied himself a ladies’ man and a man’s man. Rufus was very confused. The women of “Brown’s Hole” never really cared for his habits of weight guessing, hocking up huge cubes of phlegm, and sticking his nose in their business. All except Jo. The bitter librarian in a town without books. She loved the little nut. But then, she was the only person around who had made more bad choices than Rufus. He turned her on to Tioney Juice. Together, they would stumble around the streets, arm in leg, sl

urring, “Bad choices man, we made a lot of bad choices.” The two would wake up together, sometimes under farm animals, squinting through the haze of crusty eyes, croaking out a guttural, “More juice, we need more juice.” Little did Rufus know that his worst choice, Tioney Cactus Juice, would end up being his salvation. All he wanted 27 years ago was to get his and Jo’s name crossed off that list.

(to be continued)

We’re sitting here at dinner, clearly, she’s a winner
My love is growing stronger every day
But as I’m eating my flan, she gets a call from Jan
Who is joining us and there’s nothing I can say
But it’s clear the evening’s ruined and I just sit here stewing
Because she talks and talks about nothing but her clothes
I hear about her nails and where her husband fails
And quite frankly the conversation blows

Now here comes by Joni who’s really quite a phony
She’s shows us her new shoes from the Prada store
She treats the waitress snotty, goes on about Pilates
And now I’m officially pissed and bored
Now in pops girfriend Sheila who only drinks Tequila
And man this load has really had her fill
I smile so politely but this crap happens nightly
And I’m constantly picking up the bill

Her friends, her friends,
The conversation never ends
They drive me frickin’ batty, to hear them be so catty
They’re all nuts and I just can’t pretend
We’re back at her place and they’re all in my face
God I hate her friends
I despise her annoying friends

Her friend Amanda has the IQ of a chicken
But a surgeon’s touch has made her boobs quite huge
This gives her the license to be a bloody nuisance
Her new boyfriend is loaded and a stooge
He goes on about his stocks, the boat, and his big dock
And I want to shove a shotgun down my throat
But my Angie is a cutey, intelligent, a beauty
This year I think I’m putting in a moat

Her Friends, her Friends
Constantly talking about new trends
The’re bitchy rude and vile; I sit quietly and smile
Is this conversation ever going to end?

Words & Music by Pat Godwin
Good 1 Music ASCAP 2010

She says, I think with my penis
That I think with it all the time
And where’s the romance with my brain in my pants?
Is that all that’s on my mind?

She wants me to snuggle and cuddle
She’d like to be wined and dined
She says she wants more conversation
And less of the bump and grind

She threw away my magazines
She watches me when I’m on line
She says don’t let my penis come between us
And everything will be just fine

She says that women are different
It’s the emotional ties that bind
It’s love and trust, not sex and lust
That she’s been longing to find

And I say, guess what all guys think about
Every 5.3 seconds of time?
That’s right we think with our penis
I speak for all of mankind

So check your watch cause I think with my crotch
And it’s coming up on 6 to 9
She says, I think with my penis
So, let me give you a piece of my mind

Words & Music by Paddy G.
Good 1 Music ASCAP 2010

Grab the cooler and the kids, we’re gonna have some fun
Hanging out at the beach, soaking up the sun
We’ll drive a couple hours it’s not that far away
The sun will come out, it’ll be a perfect day
We get there at ten with the whole human race
It took till two, just to find a parking space

At the beach, taking the kids to the beach
The kids, kids, kids love the beach

Now the beer’s getting warm and the water’s way to cold
I fear a storm or am I just getting old?
The dead fish in the sand, cook up quite an aroma
You can’t get too tan or you’ll get a melanoma
Suck in your gut, to hide your flab
My feet got cut when I stepped on a crab

At the beach, tell me why I like the beach?
Tell me why, why, why I like the beach

Sand is everywhere, on the blanket and the food
Hide the kids eyes, that fat man’s nude
Check out that lady, what did she forget?
She forgot to trim her bikini line, it’s like a Chia Pet

You can’t surf or para-sail, you might become a paraplegic
When the harness fails you’ll need more than analgesic
There’s medical waste and pollution in the sea
A great white shark could bite your leg off at the knee
Someone dove from the pier and did a belly flop
Hold on a second that girl’s got no top

At the beach, I forgot why I like the beach
I forgot why, why, why I like the beach

We’re jammed on the interstate, trying to get home
With the lotion, the sand, and the smelly sea foam
I’m hot, I’m tired, my clothes are soaking wet
Did we get all the towels, what did we forget?
A quick look around and my wife’s flippin’ her lid
She lost her ring and her wallet, and we’re missing one kid

At the beach, we’re going back to the beach
Tell me why, why, why I like the beach?

Words & Music by Paddy G.
Good 1 Music

I’m in a strange town, out on the road
Lookin’ for some lovin’ to lighten my load
But we got to get busy baby, ’cause I’ve got an early flight
I’m looking for some Sin City p***y tonight
‘Lookin for some Sin City p***y tonight

(mouth trombone solo)
Sometimes a p***y makes that sound

The Wynn Casino’s where I’ll be
Which is ironic, ’cause I just lost 20 G’s
The tables are cold and the slots are tight
So I’m looking for some Sin City (mouth trombone) tonight
Some Sin City (mouth trombone), to treat me right

Sin City people, I don’t mean to be rude
But sometimes talking dirty puts Miss Kitty in the mood
The booze and the shows, the strippers and the lights
I’m looking for some Sin City (mouth trombone) tonight

Sin City (mouth trombone) tonight
I’m sick of squeezin’ my peepee
Sin City (mouth trombone) tonight
I got a hard eight, or maybe I’m bluffin’
Sin City (mouth trombone) tonight
Bluffin’ the muffin
Sin City (mouth trombone) tonight
I’m right on the come line

Words & Music by Paddy G.
Good 1 Music ASCAP 2010

Don’t send a voicemail
Don’t leave a paper trail
Delete all e-mails once they’re read

Don’t film your lovemaking
Don’t text your picture taking
Don’t make a tryst a Facebook friend

Clear your history; control, alt, delete
Use the hotel’s computer on the sly
If you get asked, just stand there aghast
and deny, deny, deny

Deny, deny, deny
Deny, deny, deny

If  her friend saw you bang ‘er
blame it on a doppelgänger
That wasn’t me there in the park

If you don’t want her to know
Don’t make a video
Make sure the restaurant’s out-of-state and dark

If you get caught kissing somebody else
It was mouth-to-mouth or they would die
If you’re at the hospital and your mistress shows up
Deny, deny, deny

Deny, deny, deny
Deny, deny, deny

Don’t write a check, or sign your name
Make sure that you have an alibi
Always use cash, never credit cards
And deny, deny, deny

Deny, deny, deny
Deny, deny, deny

Words & Music by Pat Godwin
Good 1 Music ASCAP 2010

I woke up this morning
Something was amiss
The sheets are ruined
I’m soaking, and pissed

The blanket was plugged in
The moisture blew a spark
I looked out the window
And the neighborhood was dark

I got the Nocturnal Enuresis blues
Way past my terrible two’s
I wish I had a dog to accuse
I got those Nocturnal Enuresis blues

I can’t sleepover a friend’s house
Like Zach or Bobby D
For fear I’ll wake up
In my own little sea

They’ll find out at school
And I’ll wish that I was dead
The pretty girls will tease me
About wetting the bed

I got the Nocturnal Enuresis blues
Hard to take when you’re just a kid
A bummer at thirteen
Suicidal at thirty six

I’ve got the Nocturnal Enuresis blues
And when it happens I get pissed
I can’t get laid
Unless it’s a freak from CraigsList

I got those Nocturnal Enuresis blues

Words & Music by Paddy G.
Good 1 Music ASCAP 2010

All of the ladies they tell me
I’m not one to brag or to boast
But each girl that I’ve ever dated
Says that I’m smaller than most

In the U.S. and even in China
And especially The Ivory Coast
I’m bigger than some forms of Plankton
But my manhood is smaller than most

A Hooker from Reno once saw it
And she turned as white as a ghost
She said I’ll need my reading glasses
Your manhood is smaller than most

I’ll run away with the circus
Next to me Tom Thumb’s hung like a post
I’ll get paid for being the fella
Whose manhood is smaller than most

Smaller than most, smaller than most
My manhood is smaller than most

So all you men who worry about size
Raise up your glasses and toast
At least you’re not hung like a pimple
Yes I’m much smaller than most

But I’m a huge star on the circuit
At least I’ve got big balls
Now I’m Rich and Famous
And it doesn’t matter at all if

I’m smaller than most, smaller than most
Yes the women will fall for a fella who’s small
If his star power’s taller than most

Taller than most, taller than most
Yes, my star power’s tall and the girl’s always fall
For a bank account larger than most

Words & Music by Paddy G.
Good 1 Music ASCAP 2010

I’ll have some green tea and an apple
Organically grown in the yard
Try and wipe away 20 years
Of eating bad and partying hard

We’re having a baby, and I want to be around
so it’s a salad with kale, black beans and endive
I want to live to be a hundred
Not somewhere around forty five

So I’m getting my act together
With a baby boy on the way
I’m staying in at night
Waking up in the day
At the new day, at the new day
At the New Day Cafe

So I’ll have a shot of wheat grass
Resveratrol on the side
Cod Liver Oil and CoQ10 for the ride

Guess my age when he’s in a cap and gown
leaving high school in 2028
I’ll be an old mother… shut your mouth
I’m just talking about when he graduates

At 9 o’clock we’re all doing Yoga
in a heated room there in the back
Some burst training in the cafe pool
Then some stand-in-place jumping jacks

So I’m getting my act together
I want to hear my son say
I love you Daddy
Let’s grab the ball and play

At the new day, at the new day
At the New Day Cafe

Words & Music by Pat Godwin
Good 1 Music ASCAP 2010

Every year I go down to Graceland
And I always bring back some little souvenir
Last year it was grass from the gravesite,
Year before that real wax from his ears
Oh, but this year I got one hell of an art piece
How they do it, I’ll never know
It’s hung on a wall above the headboard in my bedroom
And every night the King watches my show

There it is, glowing in the dark
The best damn one in the whole Trailer Park
He’s got that white studded jacket
And a sequined pelvis
It’s the world’s greatest Velvet Elvis

C’mon kids pray to the King
Look at his face you can almost hear him sing
It’s got a driftwood frame, twinkling lights for his eyes
And a whole lot of velvet to hold those thighs

There it is, covering up the wall
Hiding the burn marks, from when the meth lab blew last fall
The King would understand
The kilo snuck behind his pelvis
It’s the world’s greatest Velvet Elvis

Words & Music by Paddy G.
Good 1 Music ASCAP 2010