14 - 50 lbs of panic

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About this song

A true story

Lyrics

It's two in the morning, I'm sleeping just fine
When the first rumble of thunder crosses the county line
I know what's coming, I've seen this show before
In about three seconds there'll be dog claws on the floor
Verse 2:
And sure enough, here he comes - Chip, my Australian Shepherd
Fifty pounds of muscle, brain, and weather-related terror
He takes a running leap, lands square on my chest
Shaking like a paint mixer - this is gonna be a long night, I guess
Chorus:
That's fifty pounds of pure Australian panic
Trembling like a leaf in a hurricane
Every time I push him off, he's back in half a second flat
That dog's convinced I'm his personal storm drain
Verse 3:
I try reasoning with him - "Chip, you're fine, it's just some rain"
He looks at me like I'm insane, shakes harder, digs in his claws again
I try the gentle approach, pet him, calm voice, the works
He appreciates the gesture but he's staying put, that much is clear
Verse 4:
My wife says "Just let him stay, he'll calm down eventually"
I would, except he's positioned right on top of my bladder, see
And every thunderclap makes him flinch and readjust his weight
I'm being used as a mattress by a dog who's lost all sense of fate
Chorus:
That's fifty pounds of pure Australian panic
Trembling like a jackhammer on my ribs
Every time I shift position, he just settles in deeper
Like I'm the only safe place for miles, according to him
Bridge:
I've tried everything - treats, his bed, even opening the closet door
"Here boy, hide in here" - nope, he wants the human-mattress floor
My wife's right there, two feet away, perfectly available
But no, apparently I'm the only acceptable storm-proof table
Verse 5:
Three hours later, storm's moved on, first light coming through
Chip hops off, stretches, looks at me like "What's wrong with you?"
Trots to his breakfast bowl, tail wagging, not a care in sight
While I'm lying here cataloging bruises from my Australian anchor's night
Final Chorus:
That was fifty pounds of pure Australian panic
Shaking like a pneumatic drill on my chest
And next time thunder rolls through at two in the morning
I'm sleeping in the truck - Chip can have the bed, I need some rest
Outro:
But I know what'll happen - I'll hear scratching at the truck door
That Australian face pressed to the window, looking pitiful and small
And I'll let him in, and he'll shake, and I'll sigh
Because that's what you do when your dog thinks you're the only safe place when the sky falls

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