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1. |
Goodbye, Toby
03:00
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We move to the beat of a world that's destined to fucking fail.
The cuts and scrapes prepare us to deal with stormy weather.
And all my friends sit back on the shelf, working shitty jobs just to try and support themselves.
Sisters and brothers, we can raise our fists together.
We'll find a way to get out of this never ending rain.
And we can tell ourselves that we can move forward.
With these chords and songs, we'll suture wounds left open far too long.
We can wash our hands clean and find strength to start over.
We can grow and find comfort in the fact that we're not alone.
Look deep within for what we wanna be.
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2. |
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I think I need a break from the last few years and all my past mistakes.
Howlin' out in the cold dead streets to the sound of bottles breaking beneath my feet.
I do things the hard way.
Pump my brain full of venom, whiskey and fire.
Goddamn this town tonight if i make it out alive.
And these same four chords hold my sanity like a straight jacket, like a switchblade in an armed robbery.
These hands are broken and tired.
Ink stained and useless.
I saw the greatest minds of my generation laugh in the face of all this gravity that's holding us down.
Well its us against this rock and I'll hold you up if you hold me up.
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3. |
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One day I'll find the right words,
and I hope they'll be something simple.
My eyes are traveling down the road,
searching for something to call my own.
And all my teeth are falling out.
Can't keep scratching at all these fears and doubts.
Fuck damnation and redemption.
Bottom's up to these wasted days.
The space we need is growing smaller.
The shoulders we lay our heads on are not getting broader.
Apathy, exhaustion and stagnation.
Heavy eyes full of frustration.
I know you're tired, we all get tired.
Sick to death of being sick to death.
A reaction to keep from feeling complacent,
so I'll buy another round.
We'll complain about the lives we're living.
Stumble home when we're too drunk to talk.
Rise up and move on from the pain in our hands and our hearts and our minds.
Let's tie one on for the end of times.
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Podacter New Jersey
Four jerks scattered across New Jersey, Philadelphia and Delaware playing lazy, drunk, apathetic punx tunes to left swipe to. We're here for your beer.
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