rebecca mcdade

a scotland born & oregon grown singer-songwriter

uncomfortable in prototypes

So the rain came on a Tuesday morning

after eight weeks with no clouds in the sky

So it hit the ground like marbles without warning,

and soaked through all the sheets hung out to dry.


And the people in the town, they perked their ears up

To listen to the talk about grasses greener, but

Wednesday morning, everything was the same.

The river still was a dried up place

Where the local stray dogs could find some shade

And the optimist’s sunflowers were still dead.

Still everybody thinks that everything’s gonna change.


And everybody’s neighbour is a family

Who don’t talk to each other anymore.

And the son sells Adderall in fancy packaging

To the boys the daughter thinks that she adores.


So she stands at the bathroom mirror staring

Just thinking too hard about what she’s wearing

And daddy went out for smokes – he’s taking his time

Just sitting in the car with the air conditioning

Waiting for one last song to finish

And mama’s out on the back porch drinking wine.

Still everybody thinks that everything’s gonna be fine.


And the whole town goes out to church on Sundays

The reverend knows everybody’s name

And the local debutante is his fiancé

Her earrings are worth more to him than faith


And everybody nods along as he rambles

But on Thursday nights he goes out to gamble

And the congregation all pretend they mind.

Still when they hear the cries, they all sit idle

When they leave the town, you know they leave their bibles

Just crossing off commandments at a time.

Still everybody thinks that everything’s gonna be fine.

Everything’s gonna be fine.

Rebecca McDade Music