Story Behind The Song
I always wondered about folks I would see hanging around recycling centers, wondering what their stories were, so I created one.
| Song Length |
3:51 |
Genre |
Folk - Americana |
| Lead Vocal |
Male Vocal |
Similar Artists |
John Prine, The Band |
| Language |
English |
Era |
2000 and later |
Lyrics
BROWN BOTTLES GO IN THAT BIN; THE CLEAR ONES GO RIGHT HERE
THE GREENS GO IN THE DUMPSTER BUT FIRST POUR OUT ALL THE BEER
I TALK TO MYSELF A LOT--DON'T PAY ME ANY MIND
THESE DAYS YOU CAN'T LEAVE ANYTHING BEHIND
Recycling centers ain't the places
Treasures might be found
But up here in Pacoima
They don't mind me hanging round
Maybe you don't have the time
To separate your trash
But that's what I do best, my friend,
If you can spare the cash
CHORUS
The cans pay by the pound, you see
The cardboard's by the ton
I know I won't get rich
But hell, I get my share of sun
Do it long enough,
You grow accustomed to the smell
And when it gets real busy
You forget the world is hell
CHORUS
Linda was an angel,
She had eyes like April skies
We both worked down at Carl's
I shook the shakes, she fried the fries
When she got sick, I fell apart
I could not do a thing
And since she passed
I never even notice when it's spring
BROWN BOTTLES GO IN THAT BIN; THE CLEAR ONES GO RIGHT HERE
THE GREENS GO IN THE DUMPSTER BUT FIRST POUR OUT ALL THE BEER
I TALK TO MYSELF A LOT--DON'T PAY ME ANY MIND
THESE DAYS YOU CAN'T LEAVE ANYTHING
THESE DAYS YOU CAN'T LEAVE ANYTHING
THESE DAYS YOU CAN'T LEAVE ANYTHING BEHIND