1. |
Fifty Yards of Freedom
04:02
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Losing our minds, losing ourselves, losing our clothes,
Leaving our thoughts back there under the water.
She lost her keys on the way out. Good thing we found them.
Good thing they're not back there under the water.
Never have I hopped a faster fence,
And Fifty yards of freedom never looked so good.
We lost our minds. We lost ourselves. We lost our clothes.
We left all that shit back underwater.
I'm not a man whose reason for talking
Keeps me from saying what I have to say,
But who cares anyway?
Watering can, it's still drip and dropping.
Who even said we wanted our hands to stay clean?
When our thumbs and our eyes are green?
You know what I mean, when you're fifteen.
Can't comprehend, her couture is of cobwebs,
Fast-shipping attic-fulls of convoluted machines
And boxed up memories.
Missing in action, biting your tongue helps with Progress,
Wandering hearts, wondering, "What the hell does it All mean?"
A sunny day, holding our heads low,
Wishing you'd stare back at me baby.
And look at all the love I've found.
Here's to the second time around.
So ground me and keep me down.
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2. |
Knoxville
03:05
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Let's take a drive to Knoxville.
I hear the food there's good.
We can walk down to the square
And see what we feel like.
Well I'm sure it's nice in Knoxville,
In fact, the internet says it is.
I'm sure there's other girls in Knoxville
That like the things I like.
You could run.
You could hide.
You could let me help for once.
You could let me inside.
I'm not safe.
I'm far from sound.
I still have yet to learn to live
With my feet flat on the ground
And I know I'm not that much,
But if I'm good enough for you, I'm good for me.
It's a pretty long drive to Knoxville,
But that don't matter much.
I'm sure there's plenty of gas stations
Along the way.
Here's to you, I'm home in Knoxville.
I might go out tonight,
But if home is where the heart is,
Then you're my home today.
You could run.
You could hide.
You could let me help for once.
You could let me inside.
I'm not safe.
I'm far from sound.
I still have yet to learn to live
With my feet flat on the ground
And I know I'm not that much,
But if I'm good enough for you, I'm good for me.
Yeah, I know I'm not that much,
But I'm good enough for you, and that's good for me.
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3. |
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Discussions philosophical
In our climate subtropical,
I'm turning everything we say into innuendo.
Cursing curfew parameters
In iambic pentameter,
Wondering to ourselves, "Hey, now where do we go?"
Chicks with accents are fantastic.
Jacob’s homeless. Dalton’s fascist.
Allen’s shameless. Conner’s spastic.
It’s a wonder we’re not dead.
“Buy a switchblade.” “No that’s dangerous.
They would card us and detain us
Simply for no other reason than because my hair is red."
These are my friends.
Procrastinating epically,
drawing teachers in effigy
Overusing profanity, waking up with headaches
Starting summer illegally,
Escaping waking eight to three,
That hypochristianity, making peace with heartbreak
From our exes and their promise.
Summer’s hot, well, no, your mom is.
It gets harder and harder and harder.
Well that’s totally what she said.
Hang with McCulloch. Logan Peterson will
Cry with you if you need him,
But I still can’t say anything
Because my hair is red.
These are my friends.
We’re all alright. We’re just hell-bent.
We’ll bring you down. This is how we’re meant to be.
We’re all alright. We’re just hell-bent.
We’ll bring you down. We are the other 5%.
Rewrote my retributions
With what redhead constitution I have left.
My day is over, yet I'm feeling quite nostalgic
For those who came before us,
Michael Williams and his chorus,
Ethan Healy on the track, his beats border insanity.
Well Nick Picou is ever-ethnic.
Hechinger, well she's electric.
I don't where I started from,
but I'm seeing it more clearly.
How come we don't get shows
With that Joseph Barrios?
Molly Mulroy, There's Colleen
And all the Akins I love dearly.
We’re all alright. We’re just hell-bent.
We’ll bring you down. This is how we’re meant to be.
We’re all alright. We’re just hell-bent.
We’ll bring you down. We are the other 5%.
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Andrew Fleming Memphis, Tennessee
My life's a broken record of brunettes and bad coffee,
but I know that this isn't just some 80s movie,
because all that I need is for you to speak softly,
and two parents to come home to who think everything is groovy.
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