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The Lost Trailers - The YMCA Sportspark Anti-Massacre (Chord)
Submitter: lmofle (943) on 12/22/04
Month Views: 507 | Total Views: 6,055
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The YMCA Sportspark Anti-Massacre
By The Lost Trailers
Tabbed By Larry Mofle
rmofle at satx.rr.com
12/22/2004 


             G
Well, it was near dark-30 in the soccer field
          D
We were a hundred strong and kids were coming still
       B7                           C  
Up the drive of the Y Sportspark to park beneath the trees
         G 
I hadn't seen this many kids in one place 
          D
Since the Winger Concert or the dirt track race
      B7                                                     C
And I thought this was definitely the coolest thing that I'd ever seen in Albany. 
       G
We had Kodiak and we spit in the dirt
                D
And watched the Senior girls in their skirts
    B7                                               C
And prayed for the day when we had girls that looked good and drank beer
    G
Our lives were filled with nervous excitement 
      D
As we waited for that epic fight
   B7                                  C
Of Clint Cecil and Clay Taylor and the history they'd make


Chorus 1:
              G  
So don't turn away, you don't have to run
D
Every day has a rising sun
    B7
And one day yours is gonna come 
    C                                    G
And take your blues away, so don't turn away


Cause when you're in ninth grade it's a big deal
To stand shoulder to shoulder on a soccer field, 
With 18 year olds who are too preoccupied to punch you in the gut
Yeah these people came for just one thing
To see Clay and Clint in this human ring
Cause both guys were tough as nails and roughest of the rough
Well, Clay we didn't know so good 
Cause he grew up outside our neighborhood
But I guess I first heard of him in Merry Acres Middle School
Well, some are just fighters, and Clay always was
But he never used no knivexs or a gun
He preferred to win or get beat on the strength of his will
Consequently, Clint was notoriously known
For being bit by a rattlesnake in a berry grove
He was only ten then, and he swelled up like a weather balloon
But it couldn't kill him, it only hardened 'em a bit
And after that he never took no s**t
And that'prob'ly why he and Clay met that afternoon

Chorus

Well, Clint and Clay should have never a fought
It was a lie that was started by my friends dad's daughter
Which would usually be called a sister but she was more than that
Cause his dad had an affair with my friend's mom's mother 
And had two kids, and maybe others
One was my friends uncle, and the other was his aunt
So his quasi-aunt-step-sister-person 
Had done a bad thing and worsened it
By hitting Clay's parked car and starting a lie
She was confused already with the way she was
And she didn't want to piss off the boy she loved
Cause she had a crush on Clay since she was nine 
Which was something we didn't quite understand
Cause girls dug Clay but he was an ugly man
Much like us, so he gave us hope or at least a fighting chance
We just knew he wasn't someone to mess with
So it was no surprise when he got the message
That he skipped his class and ran out in a rage
He yelled, "Whichever dead man hit my car
You know what you did and you know who you are
And if you was worth a damn, you'd fess up to what you did." 
From the group of kids rose a shaking hand
It was the one of my friend's sister-aunt
And she said, "Clay, I saw it all and it was Clint!" 
Well, Clint yelled out, "You lyin' inbred!" 
And Clay cried, "You little punk, you're dead! 
You meet me at the Y soccer fields a quarter after dark." 
Clint said, "I didn't hit that piece of crap, 
And nobody talks to me like that
And you're gonna wish you never called me out to that park."

Chorus 2:
So don't turn away, you don't have to run; every day has a rising sun
And one day yours is gonna come and take your blues away
So don't turn away, keep your toes on the line
Keep your head up kid, everything will be fine
Those bitter grapes are gonna turn to wine
And wash your blues away. So don't turn away


Well, dusk bit into the far horizon
It's teethmarks found a dust trail rising
Across the clay alley towards the vending machines
At first nobody really noticed, 
Till the dustcloud hit the soccer goals
Then some kid yelled, "Hey, I think that's Clay Taylor's Jeep!" 
He was gunning it, with the hammer down
And when he got near us he spun it around 
And stuck the brakes until the gravel bled
And we all stared at disbelief 
At the strangest sight I'd ever seen
A butt naked Clay Taylor, with pantyhose on his head
Now, you've got to know what this meant to us
This was pre-Braveheart and William Wallace
Clay was revolutionizing the art of war in 1991
It was weird as hell, downright frightening
As he called for the man he was supposed to fight
But who could know the horror show had only just begun


Chorus 1

We were shocked, speechless, the field was silent
Till a growl pierced the air like a mountain lion's
and got closer and closer shaking needles from the trees
Kids were looking around, all confused
Cause the sound grew near but there was still no view
Till the southside of the crowd let out in screams
And the sea of people all around
Parted to reveal a clown
Running full speed with a chainsaw in his hands
I'd never seen a clown in full sprint
Then I realized "Hey, that's really Clint
And I do believe he aims to kill a man." 
Now there is one thing scarier than a mad clown
That's a midget on crank and there ain't many around
To be honest, I've never seen one in the real
So the whole crowd got spooked and ran
And left a solitary man
Standing in the middle of a trampled soccer field


Well it really doesn't matter who won or lost
I can only say that Clint paid the cost
Of an ill-fated rumor and a heart of pride
It wasn't his fault how things turned out
He tried to have something that he was born without, 
The kind of toughness a few like Clay keep trapped inside. 
The kind that looks someone square in the eye
As he's rushin' at you in a clown disguise 
And brandishing a Yamaha chainsaw from his Daddy's toolshed. 
And not flinchin' a bit, not bitin' yer lip
Not quiverin' shiverin', or faking a limp
Just spittin' out whiskey right there in the mud, and sayin' "Bring it on, son." 
Well, that's the stuff you only see in Albany
Clay might have been crazy but he was braver than any 
Other SOB I've seen in all my years
So when the taxman calls, or rent gets late
Or we've played a show, and we didn't get paid
I think, "Well it ain't no chainsaw bearing clown, so what do I got to fear."

Chorus 2
 
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