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Anchor & Plume + Kindred
'Mason Dixon Issue'
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lyrics: h.u.e
music: A Sol Mechanic

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The acronym h.u.e represents "hope-uplifts-everything".

As an interdisciplinary artist uniquely rooted in hip hop culture, h.u.e utilizes four disciplines to create compositions with a unified aesthetic. 

1. MUSICAL ART ("Rural-Hip Hop-Blues") 

2. PERFORMANCE ART (Street, Therapeutic, and Comedy) 

3. VISUAL ART (tempera, gauche, watercolors on found mediums) 

4. WRITTEN ART (Creative writing, Community development essays)


Full artist bio at

intro (spoken by j.parker)
where i'm from we kick cans for fun
lucky nights are rare, i like my steak well done
fry my eggs hard so the yolk won't run
crows catch corn, kernels crackin' in the sun

verse 1
snatch the chicken egg before the snake gets his
grandaddy been gone, and my uncle got sick
berkley county chern had to grow up quick
swap school for mules, books for farm tools
no social studies class, no voting rights act
not enough time to throw pinecones into the creek
sulfur smell in your shirt, red clay on your jeans
i miss baloney w/mayo, kool aid, the kitchen table
porch swing, our favorite days of the week
shellin sweet peas, or snappin butter beans
the slickest, quickest cousin sneak a ritz for our snack
lumber yard stole the farm grandma couldn't buy it back

i got the iron cast blues in 8, 10, & 4
no fishes in the skillet
no more okra at the store
lose myself in thought as i stare at the coals
better add some new wood before the grits gets cold

verse 2
tobacco's still king, a slim deadly ruler
unless you born here, evenings ain't no cooler
nights like this, you get sliced with a knife
wrong piccolo bar, wrong bartender's wife
one collect call, one chance to make bail
pawn shop the next day, put my pride on sale
i sulked back home with some rain in my hat
devil sent that damn water just to wet my last match
no smokes no jokes, (just) cockroaches-i- hope
come the stroke of midnight, i'll hit the right note
cinderella dreams, for a ball to go--(nah)
pull myself together, drain my shrimp gumbo
i grab my yellow rain coat,  my dad's banjo
i'l fix this shack up, make this castle a home, (tomorrow)

verse 3
tromp thru the marsh, spanish moss spotted swamp
turn left at the post, hop over the gate, and just, wait, for the light
window flickers 3 times, that right there is the sign
that my buddy's girl's gone and it'll be a good night
12 string guitar, 12 million stars
make 3 small chords build 12 tall bars
notes leave deep rings like unfiltered tar
play hard all night till the room starts to steam
soaked my handkerchief thru, so i just use my sleeve
calloused hands clap, we salute the new day
split the money from my hat and we go our separate ways

i'll hop the rails someday, leave this sunset town
get some work up north, till the snow falls down
pack my ruck sack up and hitch back down South
make a jug of sweet tea wait till the moon comes out
then howl and growl and cry and shout and pray
find a couple straw bales to lay me down to stay
sleep... deep, and rest in peace
by and by... i'll be back on my feet

h.u.e a.r.t