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lyrics

There’s more tread on the tires
but there ain’t no blood on my hands.
Crises all morphed into laugh lines,
Enemies turned into friends.
I fended off thieves -
they came back with good deeds,
They had to prove me wrong.
Yeah I could sing you a sad one
but tonight I just don't have one -
you'll have to cry alone.

Why don't you whisper a white lie?
I'm dying to hear some good news,
Colorful fiction trumps heartfelt conviction,
But either way, we’re gonna lose.
And why do my guts hurt from laughing?
I guess I’m doing this all wrong.
I could sing you a sad one
but tonight I just don't have one -
Yeah, you'll have to cry alone.

Scabs over scars and nothing more,
Open windows behind locked doors,
Wisdom in ounces, garbage by the pound.
Maybe I never grew up,
Oh, but I ain’t coming down.
I’m not coming down.

credits

from Weekend Treasures, Monday's Trash, released May 8, 2013

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Motel Glory Rock Hill, South Carolina

Chaotic rock-and-roll that winks and screams.

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