1. |
Keep Track / Lose Track
03:30
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My bottle of cheap red wine I bought at the store down the street.
And it’s filled with bad ideas and intentions for the friends I hate.
And I can’t say I remember what exactly I’m doing here.
Well I’m rotten after a blackout while you’re chasing shots with your beer.
Well I’ll warn you later he’s still sleeping all alone.
And he’s waiting for you to finish this so come home.
Look for stability in complacency; you’re always under covers.
And the smell of sweat from the under, blood anthems for old lovers.
And I’m counting days and nights.
When I lost track of the when’s and where’s, but at least I got the faces clear.
And you’re moving out of range.
And you’re keeping track of the how’s and why’s, and my careless thoughts and my bullshit lies.
Now I’m counting days and nights.
And I lost track of the when’s and where’s, but at least I got the faces clear.
And you’re moving out of range.
And you’re keeping track of the how’s and why’s, and my careless thoughts and my bullshit.
My bullshit lies.
My lies.
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2. |
Drowned
03:44
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Excuses pour out so easily and I've never had a trouble with the frequency.
It needs a mate to calm me down,
postcards and phones calls to a long distance small town.
And I've never been good with secrets to keep,
but I can lie white, right through my teeth.
That current takes us, and we breathe it in.
Mistakes in old friends to a short coming, quick end.
An empty-eyed blank stare at an atlas,
I'm lost without a map or compass.
And I revise and I rewrite.
I'm drowning in long nights, late drives with old ghosts,
I'm an index of footnotes.
And I'm sick, sick, sick of my complaining, that rhetoric that I've been writing.
That blood red bled from ink to pen, I'm blue/black backwards, I am paper thin.
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3. |
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I walk around and around this entire town
never know where it is that I am going to.
Cause it's just that I don't know where it is that I should go,
so I keep walking without any direction.
So I head back to my hometown, sink my feet into the ground.
Find my roots so that I may be buried in the spring of early May,
I'll start my, my drinking days and I'll rot away my insides.
But first I'll lie in this bed and sleep myself half to death,
to get me through these pains in my head
that I get every night after a bottle of wine and
some pills that I got from a friend.
Oh and I, I will try not to take them tonight
but it gets harder at the bottom of all those bottles.
So I will dig my grave and in it I will lay, I go in and up come roses.
This is where I will rest, just my arms folded on my chest.
The truth in death, no more lies to make my head hang heavy.
No no no
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4. |
Cab Rides & Cigarettes
04:04
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Another night alone at the bar that you call home.
Sit there waiting for no one.
And the melting of the ice in your drink passes the time,
Order another to keep you numb, to keep you numb.
And you miss the way it felt when it was new and not routine.
Same production, just different actors every night.
And you’re not proud, but not ashamed. Sits alone, you ask her name.
Always know the ending of this play.
And you’ll say: Don’t go, you know that we’ve only just met.
I’ll call a cab home, or we could walk and smoke these cigarettes.
Early morning; half-asleep.
Half awake under a stranger’s sheets.
Not surprised that she’s already left.
Find your clothes, and find your smokes, there’s no goodbye, there's just a note.
Didn’t see just how this would end.
And it says: Don’t call. I know that we’ve only just met.
I’m sorry to have led you on, there’s no good that could ever come out of this.
I’ve got no room for you in my life. I am complicated.
Here’s money for a cab home, the drinks, and half-smoked cigarettes.
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5. |
Limbs
03:39
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Hello and how are you, dear? How I miss your caress.
And those long skinny fingers, dear, how they moves you undress.
Each knife in my blood, it’s better to forget.
I fill my days up with nights, my dear, my eyes wince inside the light.
‘Cause the sun dries up my guts, my dear, so I drink ‘em back to life.
Like limbs of a tree, my dear, old and rigid we grow.
And describe our moss, my dear, live my life like a joke.
And if that’s the case, my dear, can I laugh at myself?
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6. |
Second Untitled
03:33
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So it’s the last time, I fucking swear it.
No matter how many times I’m gonna have to say it before it’s the truth,
Before it’s the truth, ‘cause I have to.
‘Cause the ink from my pen, oh, it dries permanent, and it makes it harder to forget.
And I’ve been waiting for the weekend so I can feel good about my drinking.
Try not to lie; try not to lie, at least not when I write.
‘Cause the ink in my skin, your word is ever there.
It’s a broken promise to never drink again,
‘Cause I kicked the habit of being abstinent and I fought off years of each cigarette.
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7. |
Rilke
05:14
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Fell sleep in the attic, shaking and nervous.
Your roommate in my brother’s room, there wasn’t much to stop us.
Fell in love with your ivory, sharps and flats and panic attacks.
And I’ve always hated your city, but now I can’t wait to go on back.
And I felt as steady as the rain down on our heads as we walked back to the train.
Sometimes driving through Brooklyn, still thinking about you, and all that I did back then.
Fell in to the ground, a casket for every mistake that we made.
With your bin in a regret.
We talked different, but speak the same.
And I felt as steady as the rain down on our heads as we walked back to the train.
Sometimes driving through Brooklyn, still thinking about you, and all that I did back then.
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8. |
Lucky Me
03:55
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Turn over 'Hatful of Hollow', you're my light that never goes out.
Cut deep into bone and marrow, far too deep to ever want to get out now.
Those first nights swept away in a drunken flood, rain and spilled guts.
Afraid to get too close, reopen wounds I had just bled through.
I've been torn apart,
But I won't break your heart.
Just look where it's got us to, my hands don't shake, bruised black and blue.
Wake up bright morning sun, no need, no fix, no sinking guts.
A long way from the preying past.
Same sleepy town, same knives, same backs.
No chase to give in to, no bends, no breaks when I've got you.
I've been torn apart,
But I won't break your heart.
When I'm out of your arms, I'm out of my mind.
When I'm out of your arms, I'm out of my mind.
Think back to how unlucky I've been and I'll play it over again and again.
And I would be laid in the ground to rest if not for you and my closest friends.
I've been torn apart,
But I won't break your heart.
I know just how lucky I am.
I know just how lucky I am.
I know just how lucky I am.
I know just how lucky I am.
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9. |
Family Tree
04:39
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I've got the hands of a carpenter and I get them from my grandfather.
But what I build just gets torn down, or I burn it to the ground.
I've been putting out fires I light since i can't remember.
To light my way home I carry torches and burdens.
I've got the heart of an operator and i get it from my grandmother.
I'm always patching lines so no on starts forgetting about me.
And it seems that I don't without lying, cheating, or complaining.
To light my way home I carry torches and burdens.
I've got a past filled with lovers, skeletons under covers.
They're never sleeping, always leave in the morning.
So I'll burn that history with a song for the dead and buried.
I've got a claim on a casket, a hole in the ground that keeps my friends worried.
And my head is train wreck, derailed and off track.
My mother is a car crash, that's where i get it.
I swear like a sailor, sew my mouth like a tailor.
I've got a bad, bad temper and it's all from my father.
But I love them.
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10. |
Whiskey & Wine
04:11
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Send "Whiskey & Wine" Ringtone to your Cell
I’d love to lie and say I don’t hate the truth.
But I hate myself for not leaving you.
And they can drag and tow, and I’ll cut the line.
And I heal my wounds with whiskey and wine.
Cut deep your words enough to scar.
The thin blood, it rains through my tired heart.
Slipped away the days, stay up all night.
And I heal my wounds with whiskey and wine.
Thin trail of smoke, the grey mist of ash.
The cigarettes they burn away a morning passed.
They can drag and tow, and I’ll cut the line.
And I heal my wounds with whiskey and wine.
To bury it all aside with whiskey and wine.
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11. |
Third Untitled
06:08
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I woke up this morning relieved thinking quite clearly,
for the first time in day or maybe several weeks.
The sun it shone through my window pane and the birds were singing
a song so lovely it stayed in my ears. And it rang and rang and slowly faded away,
and now it's just the bitter taste of some old sweeter memory.
I walked by an old man in a cemetery, he was kneeling
and not so far off in time that could be me.
He just sat there at the headstone, he was begging
for god to take his life and let him rest here by wife,
not feel that pain and finally be free.
And without another word I left that place of hurt and longing.
I ran into a friend he said he's seen some changes in me.
"Well there's this girl I wake up to who keeps me smiling,"
And as much as I complain and cry about my perfect life I know I've got it made.
It's just an awful mix of chemicals, these demons and black clouds follow me.
So many churches in this town, it must leave a lot of seats empty.
I wonder how many in the pew and those singing,
who's there only to be saved and who truly believes,
and who's left out on the streets where the dirty money sleeps.
And I think, what's their god done for me?
But not listen when I speak, lend a deaf ear and take my friends away from me.
When I lay myself to sleep I let the day wash over me.
My girl, my friends, my blood-tied family,
my curses and blessings, if it weren't for you I'd be dead and buried.
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Bridge Nine Records Boston, Massachusetts
Started in 1995, Bridge Nine is a label that specializes in hardcore punk, with close to 300 recordings in our catalog. Check us out and keep an eye out for updates!
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