I need to find some traction.
My tires keep spinning round and round.
I climb that mountain
just to slip and fall back down.
Fight for the mic. Then fail to make a sound.
Build it all up with my left hand while my right one tears it down.
A new door opened.
It said "boy I'm closing soon.. you better step in."
But I passed that to go back down the hall again
to retry some old door that always led me to dead ends.
Yeah what i'm saying is...
We better take this easy.
I've been buried for so long some air might drown me.
Do you think it's possible to forget how to breathe?
And in case this medicine they send won't heal me,
we should probably decide now who's gonna kill me.
And when they showed up
to warn us of the storm, well guess where I was..
My body was there but my mind was far off,
and people wonder why I seem to have such rotten luck.
But you know what I've been thinking of?
I've been wondering if our bodies can get mad at us.
Cause if they can, then I'm sure mine is furious.
And if I'm betrayed by myself, tell me who else can I trust?
Yeah that's why it's a must...
For us to take this easy.
I've been buried for so long some air might drown me.
Do you think it's possible to forget how to breathe?
And in case this medicine they send won't heal me,
we should probable decide now who's gonna kill me.
Yeah which one of us all is down to kill me?
On “Lost at the Party,” Terry Malts trade their marauding pop-punk for dark, mature pop. The result is their best record to date. Bandcamp Album of the Day Oct 31, 2016