1. |
Indianapolis Jones
03:10
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There’s a terror in our soul.
For all the young as they grow old.
There’s pleasure taken from watching on as they slowly sink into the depth within our mind, deeper than any man can dive.
Was it necessary for commentary to watch them as they try to swim.
So here I am living and breathing another day.
Because this body it bares it scars, that I refuse to hideaway.
If you find yourself in doubt, don’t you ever feel so strayed.
What’s it like living life on a promise to only be let down?
Cause’ I can do more than relate.
There’s no award in this debate.
Lend a hand to another, call you my brother.
True amnesty on display.
Shed your canopy like cascades.
We’re over worked and underpaid.
Their money isn’t real, they make it as they please, to keep us on our knees.
Vampires of the modern day.
Is this the American way?
Brave men are those who fight.
Walk the road of dead end signs.
With guidance of the past.
Carry on into the vast.
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2. |
City Of Rust
01:25
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We’re breaking ground for future ghost towns.
So what’s the price to pay for peace of mind?
When all you’ve done is price me out?
We are the ones who build it up.
While they’re the ones who tear it down.
Building designer walls of gold.
What’s left remains are still unsold.
Measuring life by foot and square.
Another vacant life in despair.
We’re breaking ground for the future Ghost towns.
Rotting parallels beneath the ground.
Blurred out the flaws and edges with a fresh coat of paint.
In this endless search for some kind of trust in the city of rust.
Destroy what dignities left here
Dreading the silence I once sought to find.
Stacked up like catacombs, we’re counting homeless like they’re sheep.
We are the ones who build it up.
While they’re the ones who tear it down.
A sight left to see that’s so unsettling.
Maybe someday reality will be better than my dreams.
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3. |
Homes Lead To Highways
03:50
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I’ll burn your final curtain for some kinda warmth.
And fill our pockets stuffed from the ashes to prove what once was.
These walls built high.
Progress from the ground up to stand before it all, caves in, give them a place something they can believe in.
All roads that lead to nothing are the ones you call home.
Magnolia street, American Beat, a small room swallowed in light.
Reverie in comfort, the years take but don’t give back.
A memory collecting dust, a picture framed within the heart.
I’ll burn the final curtain with iron still warm.
And everything you take for granted was a vision once forged.
With heads hung low.
Was progress from the ground up to stand, before it all caved in.
This gave them a place something they could believe in.
All roads that lead to nothing are the ones you call home.
Magnolia street, American Beat, a small room swallowed in light.
Reverie in comfort, the years take but don’t give back.
A memory collecting dust, a picture framed within the heart.
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Commodity Birmingham, Alabama
English - Guitar
Tommy - Bass
Troy - Drums
Seth - Vocals
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