Mass
Pulled over at midday
The joker's still wet behind the ears
He hands off a novel of novice citations
Outside the service station
The glue sets beneath our heels
My baby's in Massachusetts
And all this booze is useless
Sunset, sing my scratched-out sighing soul to sleep
And the cashier here is ruthless
Jeanette, I wrote your name down
But I'd hate that job as much as you do
If I was stuck between Barton and Binghamton too
Days like this, I miss listening to records
Making coffee together, snow globes and jersey sheets
I tried sleeping in our bed without you last night
That didn't work at all, 'cause I couldn't sleep
Sometimes I wish it was still last summer
And you still lived in South Philly
And I wasn't playing a show in Nebraska, or Austin, Texas
Asking the kids what they ate for breakfast
But here I am, Valero bathroom
Who's paid to keep these things cliché?
Bury me beneath New York State
It's the only place where I feel dead
My baby's in Massachusetts
And all this booze is useless
Sunset, sing my scratched-out sighing soul to sleep
And the cashier here is ruthless
Jeanette, I wrote your name down
But I'd hate that job as much as you do
If I was stuck between Barton and Binghamton too
The joker's still wet behind the ears
He hands off a novel of novice citations
Outside the service station
The glue sets beneath our heels
My baby's in Massachusetts
And all this booze is useless
Sunset, sing my scratched-out sighing soul to sleep
And the cashier here is ruthless
Jeanette, I wrote your name down
But I'd hate that job as much as you do
If I was stuck between Barton and Binghamton too
Days like this, I miss listening to records
Making coffee together, snow globes and jersey sheets
I tried sleeping in our bed without you last night
That didn't work at all, 'cause I couldn't sleep
Sometimes I wish it was still last summer
And you still lived in South Philly
And I wasn't playing a show in Nebraska, or Austin, Texas
Asking the kids what they ate for breakfast
But here I am, Valero bathroom
Who's paid to keep these things cliché?
Bury me beneath New York State
It's the only place where I feel dead
My baby's in Massachusetts
And all this booze is useless
Sunset, sing my scratched-out sighing soul to sleep
And the cashier here is ruthless
Jeanette, I wrote your name down
But I'd hate that job as much as you do
If I was stuck between Barton and Binghamton too
Credits
Writer(s): Jacob Starnes Ewald, Brendan Taylor Francis Lukens, Ian Daniel Farmer, Sean Edward Huber
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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