something feels wrong but she won't say
and he's still scraping himself off the floor
the place where they met has been shut down for years
the liquor license still on the door
stuck running straight down the middle
wondering if she has a reason to leave
nerves soak it up so he calls her at home
her head still ringing from last night
keeps trying to remember the years were well spent
unhinged, spent alone but not lonely
not exactly as she planned it. more or less spent it drunk
the ends coming faster than we want it
tattoo on her wrist says it means a whole lot
for every night she ever got caught up
years rolling on. sleeping in just to hang on
the ink already dry down her arm
credits
from Sundays,
released December 2, 2014
Leads - Ben Zimmerman
Rhythm - Dave Chekan
Lyrics - Ben Zimmerman
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