Liner Notes

Music by Kris McDaniel, Ben Bradley, Carrie Jenkins.
Lyrics by Kris McDaniel.

Kris McDaniel — vocals, acoustic guitar, classical guitar, electric guitar, keyboards, edrums
Ben Bradley — electric guitar, slide guitar, cello
Carrie Jenkins — vocals, mandolin, piano

Carrie’s parts were recorded by Carrie in Nottingham.
Kris and Ben’s parts were recorded by Kris and Ben in Syracuse.
Song engineered by Kris McDaniel.

Art by Paul Prescott


I galloped into the city
My horse knew we had no time to spare
Was that trouble whispering in my ear?
Or the wind brushing through my hair?

It was a truly ugly December
When I arrived for the Eastern APA
With a sinking feeling in my stomach
That wouldn’t go away

I camped three miles from the saloon
There was no overflow
If it weren’t for the wiles of Expedia
I wouldn’t have the money to go

I entered to the foyer for registration
I slapped my badge upon my vest
My program notes hung at my side like a pistol
But my heart felt like it would leap from my chest

I entered into an elevator
Looking for an interview suite
I couldn’t remember the lines that I had memorized
I would have to be quick on my feet

I waited outside the door for what felt like an hour
I could hear some kind of cackling from within
Then the door it opened and I was summoned
By an old man with a mischievous grin

The interview was surprisingly pleasant
I felt like I would live to leave the room
But then someone asked me if I’d be at the smoker
I felt a sense of impending doom

Two guards they checked my registration
To make sure that I had paid my dues
Then the bronze doors opened and I could witness
A parade of bodies arrayed in bleens and grues

For those who’ve never been,
I’ll tell you what I beheld
In that room of shame and hunger
Where all manner of horrors dwelled

A woman huddled in the corner, with her shoulders sunk
Her companion drinking the free beer, despairingly getting drunk

And at the center of every table small flames were alit
And wisps of smoke would bind together and then quickly unknit
As slabs of meat in ill-fitting clothes shambled from fire to fire
Some moaned uncontrollably, some trembled with desire

And I tried not to stare
At the blood stains on the floor
The soot on the ceiling
From the fires of years before

But it happens each and every year
The system couldn’t be broker
Don’t get smoked at the smoker

And even the brightest stars feel less than mediocre
So don’t get smoked at the smoker
Don’t get smoked at the smoker
Don’t get smoked at the smoker