lyrics
Pocket full of pills, I got a journal full of ragged ills,
and I wake up with headaches every day.
Lost my child, bled out of me, the one last chance that I could see
how keeping you was somehow second place.
You can’t tell me what bothers you, I can’t tell you that bothers me
‘cause privacy’s how I know I’m alive.
There’s black under my fingernails from scraping dirt off the swollen tales we tell,
it’s all that’s left but our divide.
But I’m gonna love you til the day I die,
I’m gonna love you til the day I die,
I’m gonna love you til the day I die,
but I think I’m goin soon.
Yeah, I think I’m goin soon.
The money’s fine but it’s just a start, he’ll never play the finer part
of being when all being’s saving face.
I’d kill you and I’d kill myself, the shrillest voices never tell you
some day every thing’ll be abrasive.
The light that lights your face at night, the silence that kills all that’s right,
the weary haven’t time to know their might.
The demons they’re all real and I’ll tell everybody here
I’ll slit their throats before they catch me and slit mine.
But I’m gonna love you til the day I die,
I’m gonna love you til the day I die,
I’m gonna love you til the day I die,
but I think I’m goin soon.
Yeah, I think I’m goin soon.
But I’m gonna love you til the day I die,
I’m gonna love you til the day I die,
I’m gonna love you til the day I die,
but I think I’m goin soon.
Yeah, I think I’m goin soon.
credits
from
Typewriter,
released August 23, 2012
Wolfgang Schaefer: Guitar, Vocals
Benjamin Schaefer: Percussion
Allen Cote: Bass, Lap Steel
Chuck Lawton: Upright Bass
Matthew Holmen: Banjo
Michael Maher: Trumpet
Monica Martin: Vocals
license
all rights reserved