Eating out of dirty hands.
A pilgrimage to foreign lands.
I’m shotgun on the left.
Can’t drive manual yet.
Plus I’m scared I’d hit a sheep or a man out on these back roads.
Coming near the family home
Moving through a town we don’t know, and
You don’t wanna talk about
The boarded up church, or house,
Or the strange coat of arms hugging hard on the flagpole
I’m a passenger with a pocket knife
Hold a pillow close, just out of my sight.
You say “let’s waste some time”
Running out of things to say, we come across a bad parade.
You spot it from afar.
Say “get back in the car.”
I’m sick, a couple burgundy bricks come touch our temples.
Drop an hour in the dark.
Wish I could say where we are, but lights they have gone down.
Plastic bag wrapped around (me)
And I’m breathing out the miserable feelings through a pinhole.
Been a passenger for most of my life.
Like I’m eating crow, like I’m frog in throat.
You’ll see in due time.
Drop me in the river I’m alright.
Baptize me against the moonlight
Drop me in the river I’m alright
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