Our lips were red, our hands were led
to passing back and forth a revolver
one on one russian roulette
fell into your bed and then out of your bed
like a real "problem solver"
and I felt like a crushed rat
getting pulled out of the arms of a mousetrap
then crushed once again
by the insignificance of my death and thus life.
So I'll just sulk here until I rot,
in the bottom of your kitchen trash can
and once the smell is gone I'll be forgot
and you'll continue your affair with the garbage man
Oh how sad, how truly fucking tragic
that no tragedy has ever taken place here before
when we were so sure that this stress was post traumatic.
And we crawled into our heart-shaped Trojan horse We never could make love like we could war.
But oh wait a minute, Mr. Postman, didn't you see this coming?
Yeah, wait a minute what kind of man delivers a letter like that and then just takes off running?
Let it rot in the mailbox
and maybe someday he'll come back.
You can place your final bet on True Love
like its just another horse at the track
and all of your dreams will do nothing
but watch you sleep.
Buoyant one-off release from a long-running Atlanta band who juggle garage rock, folk, and power pop; don't miss the Mark Morrison cover. Bandcamp New & Notable Feb 9, 2024