they all just laugh when they ask how i've been and I say "I'm surviving".
though that's hardly the case, hell, you do pretty good to break even.
noone is waiting, nobody's in the sky, noone's coming back and running by my side.
I just stood there, nobody really knows what the hell they're doing here.
and I don't mind, I don't think the goddamn safe is full of anything or any way,
anyways, anyway, yeah any way that you can, love.
gotta keep those lights on at the station, more than often it's all you've got,
between these earthly situations.
I think of every place that I could go this late.
none of our words, none of our thoughts, have ever made it out of the cave.
this feeling's back; and its brought all of it's friends.
and i'm too tired to fight them off.
they'll finish me here in the heartland, but i'll have 'em by the fall.
after all, that's what we're fighting for, isn't it?
what a comfortable thought, to remember when you go back down.
hows this for a way of putting it?
oh steph; oh god;
what are you telling yourself to get past these scorching days?
it's not like I'm speaking highly, I am clinging on; I am amazed.
so come on! come on, kick on, relentless.
"come on, kick me again." steph says.
stick around and wait, and it'll fuck you over.
"come on," you sighed;
"let's run back to the other side."
yeah.
I felt the sweat, from what it was,
that remained from the thought; from the trip.
It's that goddamn "whatever, forever" game to get through,
every single day, no arguement.
I am a pigeon with a note,
with one wing half-assed leaping down the road.
I am a fire in the tent,
wearing down the value of rental apartments.
you were right, I was unequipped,
I had no idea what I was fucking with;
and it was all going to end the way that it was supposed to.
I hope the plane doesn't see us,
I hope that I won't forget you.
yeah.
up the valley tonight, there's a sermon by the river.
and it's the spirit left of a broken congregation.
it's full of sighs and tired eyes, throughout the morning
and those ciggarette conversations.
we've lost connection with ranger station #6.
he blew his brains into the cold,
where the road don't go.
and when there's nobody to walk with,
there's just too many directions you can go.
and though the jackals fucking taunt us on the other side,
we look with hope it'll slow,
and know it won't.
credits
from Foxes Have Holes,
released April 8, 2016
Jacob C Boyd; Jesse Z Kickasola; Richard B Ball;
THREE YELLOWMEN (ASCAP);
Rising Philadelphia band balance oversized pop punk hooks with vivid, intimate lyrics, presenting a raw, honest vision of guitar music. Bandcamp New & Notable Mar 30, 2022
This Atlanta group have a unique take on Americana, bridging queer cabaret culture of the 1920s and '30s with punchy contemporary rock. Bandcamp New & Notable May 28, 2019
This emotive pop-rock LP was released in memoriam of band member Kyle Yorlets, and 1/2 of all proceeds will go to a scholarship in his name. Bandcamp New & Notable Mar 26, 2019
