Humor & Everyday Life
Chicken Of The Trees (Reprise)
I opened my laptop to write one funny iguana song. Twenty tracks later, Florida still had material left. “Chicken Of The Trees (Reprise)” is the victory lap through the ridiculous true-story album that refused to stay small.
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Well We have been through some shit When this started I didn't know what to call 'em Dinosaurs Dragons Monsters in the yard Now Yeah I know exactly what you are Chicken of the Trees They came down through the palms Made a kingdom in the sun Found the canals and seawalls And decided this looked fun They ate somebody's flowers Then fell out of the heavens With accumulation totals Chicken of the Trees Chicken of the Trees You crazy sons of guns Florida tried everything And somehow here you come Through the cold and through the heat From the seawall to the Keys Love 'em Hate 'em Dodge 'em Chicken of the Trees I know how fast you scurry I know how far you swim And if one falls cold-stunned Turn the heater off I know what happens by the pool I know what's falling from the leaves Is it poop Just get out of the pool This ain't the Wild West You sure I remember pulling in Behind the Broward Mall Looking through the windshield At the strangest thing of all Not little lizards Not cute critters Not something you ignore Fucking dinosaurs Having a brawl outside my door I'm a Montana woman I know what to do with a bear What the fuck Do I do with that Chicken of the Trees Prehistoric in the sun One minute still Next second Everybody run Through the yards and through the streets From Broward to the Keys Nobody knows where they're going Chicken of the Trees Just another afternoon With the Chicken of the Trees Taco Tuesday Yes Beef Yes Chicken Yes Iguana Ye We've already discussed this Chicken of the Trees Fresh lime Si Fresh onion Si Iguana ceviche No Don't put that in ceviche Why Your cousin is not UF IFAS One pizza One fucking pizza Do you have iguana pizza No Can I order it No We Do Not Have Iguana I'd like a pepperoni Oh Thank God And just when we thought We understood the scale Florida counted Five One Nine Five Five One Nine Five Five thousand One hundred Ninety-five Where the hell were they all Five One Nine Five And after all those numbers There was one Just one Four miles offshore No yard to destroy No pool to poop in Nobody counting Just one little dinosaur Swimming And after everything We'd been through I wanted the little bastard To make it Four miles offshore Under endless blue For once I wasn't wondering What the hell you'd gotten into Wasn't trying to chase you Just sitting there thinking Come on, buddy Keep swimming Somewhere in twenty songs Between chaos and the sea That damn invasive dinosaur Got a little sympathy from me That's Florida That's the story Nothing stays one thing for long Something drives you crazy Then somehow gets a song We laugh because it's madness We sing because it's true We tell the stories people lived What the hell else can you do They're invasive That's still true They cause damage That's true too But after twenty-one damn tracks I certainly know more about you Chicken of the Trees You crazy sons of guns Florida tried everything And somehow here you come Through the cold And the heat From the seawall To the Keys From the treetops To the ocean Chicken of the Trees Tacos Cook it Ceviche No Pizza Stop calling Cold front Accumulation totals How many Five One Nine Five Four miles Keep swimming Florida Of fucking course Chicken of the Trees Chicken of the Trees Chicken of the Trees From one Montana woman Who moved to South Florida Looked around Saw a six-foot fucking dinosaur And thought What the fuck is that Well Now I know Chicken of the Trees Chicken of the Trees No Don't You have got to be Fucking kidding me Oh For fuck's sake
Behind the story
Why This Song Exists
“Chicken Of The Trees (Reprise)” exists because after twenty songs there was only one honest way to end this thing: go back to where it started and admit Florida won. This is not a twenty-second new iguana incident disguised as Track 21. It is the curtain call for everything the album already earned — my firsthand South Florida memories, documented news stories, official wildlife guidance, government numbers, food-safety warnings, and all the ridiculous human reactions that grew around them. I started this project thinking I was researching one funny phrase: Chicken of the Trees. Then every search opened another door. And behind practically every door was another iguana. There were giant residents behind homes. Destroyed landscaping. Highways. Toilets. Pools. Power outages. Cold-stunned reptiles falling from trees. Heated vehicles. Hunting charters. Tacos. Ceviche warnings. Pizza. An official count of 5,195. And, somehow, one stubborn iguana swimming roughly four miles offshore. The reprise lets the musical memories come back too. A little Western twang. A reggae pocket. Party horns. Salsa percussion. Tarantella chaos. The 5-1-9-5 festival pulse. Then the quiet open-water feeling of “Four Miles Offshore.” Those callbacks are memory, not new evidence. The factual stories remain attached to the individual songs where they belong. What changes here is perspective. I began this album wondering what the hell these animals were doing in South Florida. Twenty-one tracks later, I had learned a lot about iguanas. I had also learned quite a bit about Floridians. And I am no longer completely certain which species gave me the better material. I only came to write one song. Florida disagreed. And after all of it, I still love the damn chickens in the trees.
Why This Sound
The reprise is the curtain call, so it has to remember the album without turning into a disconnected medley. It starts and ends in the original Florida roots/island-rock world while carefully recalling Western, dub, Tex-Mex, salsa, tarantella, EDM and acoustic motifs until twenty-one different stories finally sound like one record.
- Collection
- Chicken of the Trees
- Sound
- Roots Rock · Island Rock · Cinematic
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