1. |
Thanks A Latté
01:37
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It's time to spill out all those words
You kept bagged up in that skin of yours.
Pretend they're sharp, pretend they hurt,
Pretend they left a big fucking stain on the floor.
We kneel with dirty rags,
Stopping blood like heart attacks.
All we know is how to clean the mess.
CHORUS:
There's copper in the air and wrinkles in our hands.
They're soaking through.
This was unintentional but not unpreventable.
It's time to spit out all those words,
Spit them right into your brother's face.
Pretend it's right, pretend it's just
As you let him wipe it off in humiliation.
Ignore the ever-present guilt.
Everything you see is a mirror image
Staring back at you.
[CHORUS]
Wake up to see those blurry, blurry lines.
Let your feet drag on the ground.
Soak up that empty sound.
Echoes of all the things you know you shouldn't say
Decay inside your head
As we go through it again.
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2. |
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Tell me, am I gonna die?
I've never been more scared in my whole life.
Fingers all point to the sky.
It's clear now that we've made some big mistakes.
Now, tell me, are we going to hell?
And how could it be worse than this?
After losing it all,
I'm not sure that I'd reject the change.
Tell me, am I gonna die?
I admit that I didn't see it coming.
I guess you could call me naive,
But I only subscribed to the national dream.
Are we to blame for everything?
Or did we do all that we could?
I wish I could say our hands are clean,
But we fucked this up collectively.
Who will be left to pick up the pieces?
Will they be picked up at all?
It's such a shame to throw it all away
When we know it could be so much more.
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3. |
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The ceiling fell, today, right on my head.
Now I've got the biggest fucking headache.
I couldn't move in time so I tried to catch it;
I wound up with too much on my hands.
With nothing to breathe but dust,
Nothing to think about but the savings on my funeral,
And nowhere to go but up, I started digging down.
I had six feet left to go.
CHORUS:
It's hard to think or plan my time
When swimming in the aftermath of bad design.
As if these thoughts could maintain their structure.
I should get used to all these giant fucking headaches.
I found claustrophobia in my shaky hands
So I'll stay outside if you don't mind.
I know I'm bitter and it's all irrational
But save your half-assed mental breakthroughs
For another day.
[CHORUS]
This constant dizziness: I can't get used to it.
I need a fucking grip now that there's nothing falling on me.
[CHORUS]
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4. |
All Aboard the Succubus
02:36
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I can't fucking stand it:
The way you found me underground,
And, after throwing me the rope,
You turned around to strangle me with it.
But I'll never say it.
I'll never say it to your face.
Instead I'll write it into song,
Obscure it into metaphor.
[CHORUS]
That's just the way it goes
With passive aggressives and assholes:
You do me wrong and I just write.
It's so regrettable.
I throw the things that I want to say
Down the drain and flush it with my pride.
But we'll get over it.
I'll never get it:
The way you boil out all my blood
And all I do is grind my teeth,
Chew my fucking tongue in half.
If you can push it,
Even just one more measly inch,
You'll have my hanging by my neck,
Caught on every final word.
[CHORUS]
It always comes to me long after you've gone away.
What I'd give to be right back there on that day.
When self doubt is a crime,
Hesitation is the noose we're all hanging by.
[CHORUS]
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Bet Your Life London, Ontario
Bet Your Life, an independent punk rock band based out of London Ontario, reared its ugly head in the early spring of 2011. Known for their catchy choruses and in-your-face vocal styling, the members of Bet Your Life have been writing and performing original music together for approximately eight years. ... more
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