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I’m still dulling my senses
While remaining expressionless
Consensus is the couch is a home
I’m not blaming you for anything
But I won’t admit my faults
It’s a close call, it’s a close call
But you can’t reside
In the past you left behind
And I know how it feels
(to be lost, it’s not a crime)
What ever happened to
“I’m not asking you to take sides?”
Rearranging more than bedsheets
I’m losing sleep
When you can’t afford your actions,
You stop caring if talk is cheap
It’s the feeling when you understand
The chamber’s empty, sweet relief
I was counting on you to kill me
(to kill me)
Disapointment’s not as scary
As what happens you succeed
The bottle can’t be empty,
We’re still talking, aren’t we?
As you led me to the front door
A child learning to walk
But you’re a crutch not a cane,
Though they’re one in the same
Labels mean everything
I’ll take you on the rocks
Instead of us taking shots
On the carpeted floor of your basement
“And when you wake up,
I’ll be gone
When you wake up,
I’ll be gone
These are the thoughts from the couch
That will not leave your mouth
So how do you plan on me to respond?
And you can’t reside
In the things you tried to hide
You’ll talk about this on stage
But not with whom you spend a bulk of your time
I bet it’s lonely on the inside
I bet there’s room for one more if you tried”


from Honestly, Fuck It., released September 15, 2015



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Gatsby's Shipwreck Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

The tallest punk band on earth


Photo by Jordy Lyric

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