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lyrics

Who’s that cat always sitting in back
As the rest of the band stands? The building is packed
Catch a glimpse once they kill it back
By the back bar in black pants and a Zildjian hat

That’s the drummer, that’s the motherfucker, I told you
Laying backbeat, backbone of the whole crew
Keeping time, keep it tight, keep it rocking
Got a couple drum keys never not in his pocket

In his stick bag find a pair of jacked up brushes
And washers for his hi-hat’s backup clutches
A broken mallet and a shaker egg
Swinging ice cream treats and chicken legs

He’s got the sawdust falling from his hair and his beard
Hands covered in callouses and a ringing in his ears
Switching up styles, getting wild for a louder pop
Funk, blues, power rock, one-two-count ‘em off

[CHORUS]
Snare’s up in the cans, get it mixed in
Hear the drummer get wicked
As the syncopated rhythm of the double bass kicks in
Hear the drummer get, hear the drummer get
Quicker than the crashes that demand that you listen
Hear the drummer get wicked
Let it ride upon the waves into the heads that it sticks in
Hear the drummer get, hear the drummer get

Sick, kid, when the cymbals are shattered
Stacking flam paradiddles onto triplet patterns
And popping them, stop, then dropping bombs like he’s Bonham
Bringing hellish crossfire to his wooden coffins, got them

Heads nodding in 11/8 swirling
Helicopter blades in both hands twirling
Like he’s fighting with sai, wild and sliding in tricks
Pro Mark, 5A, no nylon tips

You know he knows Moby Dick like the back of his hand
His double kick rig taking up half of the van
And about an hour to soundcheck it, going through it so slow
Guitar Center hero with the showroom solo

Tub-thumpers who have sat for so long
Behind singers who never let them ever write any songs
The time has come for you to take a stand and to strike
Rise up from your thrones, step up to the mic, like

[CHORUS]

Liquid

He thinks he’s getting good
But he can handle criticism
He’ll show you what he knows
And you can tell him if you think he’s getting better
On the drums

Beneath the weight of crown
He holds and breaks it down
A change in pace and sound
The fast beat will be back around
And we will bounce some more

Seated with queens and kings
He rarely ever sings
He cannot tune your strings
Or fix the way his floor tom rings
But he can count to four

[CHORUS]

Wicked

credits

from The Derelict Craft, released July 22, 2022
Jack Curtis - instrumental
Mark Schaffer - lyrics, vocals, drums, percussion, sfx, arrangement

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Schaffer the Darklord

Schaffer the Darklord (or STD) is a New York City-based rapper and comedian with material best-suited for brainy and/or drug- addled audiences. With manic energy, verbose vocabulary and cartoonishly commanding stage presence, STD skewers such topics as hedonistic substance abuse, sexual compulsion, urban anxiety and obsessive cat-enthusiasts. ... more

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