Becca Stevens Band - 45 Bucks/Queen Mab - Archive Live @ Ovation Sound

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Shared May 15, 2018

The Becca Stevens Band performs live in Winston-Salem, NC in April 2017.

Streaming: http://radi.al/Regina
North American Physical: https://store.groundupmusic.net/colle...
Europe Physical: https://storeeurope.groundupmusic.net...

Becca Stevens - voice & guitar
Liam Robinson - voice & keys
Chris Tordini - voice & bass
Jordan Perlson - drums & percussion

Songs written by Becca Stevens.
Queen Mab lyrics by William Shakespeare

Recorded, engineered and mixed by Bill Stevens @ Ovation Sound
Mastered by Dave McNair
Video editing by Stella K

:::Videographers:::
Stella K
Daniel Seriff
Jonathan Pfundstein
Jacqui Haggerty

::: LYRICS :::
45 Bucks (lyrics & music by Becca Stevens)

It’s too bad, you’ve broken the trust we had,
And this one can’t be mended with your words.
It takes time and effort to make it right,
But I don’t think I want to anymore.
No I don’t think I want you anymore.

You can keep the money,
I don’t really need it
If it’s gonna mean that I’ve gotta talk to you.
I don’t even think you’re funny,
I only laughed ’cause I could tell you wanted me to,
And no you can’t call me “honey” anymore.

It’s true that I’ve given up on you,
And you’re the type to notice a good thing when it’s gone.
To be fair, I never had faith in you,
And I don’t think I want to anymore.
No I don’t think I want you anymore.

It must be hard for you in the morning,
To face another day,
Knowing you don’t have a true friend in anyone.
It must be hard for you in the evening,
To lay your weary head,
Knowing you didn’t make a difference at all.

Queen Mab (words by William Shakespeare 1564 –1616
from Romeo & Juliet, music by Becca Stevens)

The cover of the wings of grasshoppers,
The traces of the smallest spider’s web,
The collars of the moonshine’s watery beams, ooh...

O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you.
She is the fairies’ midwife, and she comes
In shape no bigger than an agate-stone
On the fore-finger of an alderman,
Drawn with a team of little atomies
Athwart men’s noses as they lie asleep;

Her wagon-spokes made of long spinners’ legs,
The cover of the wings of grasshoppers,
The traces of the smallest spider’s web,
The collars of the moonshine’s watery beams,

Her whip of a cricket’s bone, the lash of film,
Her wagoner a small grey-coated gnat,
Not so big as a round little worm
Prick’d from the lazy finger of a maid;

Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut
Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub,
Time out o’ mind the fairies’ coach-makers.
And in this state she gallops night by night

Through lovers’ brains, and then they dream of love;
Over courtiers’ knees, that dream on court’sies straight,
Over lawyers’ fingers, who straight dream on fees,
Over ladies’ lips, who straight on kisses dream,
Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,

Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are.

www.beccastevens.com
www.groundupmusic.net