Mid-Century

Telephone, just in case you don't hear it from me
In my mind I'm an old droning machine
Take the day, take the week, you carry yourself
Well enough, up a mountain of self help

Quiet halls, quiet rooms like caverns of our lives
Radio repeats a pattern of tones
Oscillating between my feelings of loss
And apathy, on a phone call with my friends

The promise, the people
There's reason to believe that I'm not
Understanding the hurt of a punch in the arm
The fortune, the full stop
There's reason to believe that I'm gone
When your pulled away by the tide in the Arm

Internet bills and stagnant wages. I'm consoled
By scrolling through the plans for a mid century home
I have my wife, Id have a family if I could grow past
My fear of getting older and losing my youth

The promise, the people
There's reason to believe that I'm not
Understanding the hurt of a punch in the arm
The fortune, the full stop
There's reason to believe that I'm gone
When your pulled away by the tide in the Arm

Do these words make it in
How long does grainy imagery
I can't escape from the sea
How long has it been on my mind? Since the day we had it out

The promise, the people
There's reason to believe that I'm not
Understanding the hurt of a punch in the arm
The fortune, the full stop
There's reason to believe that I'm gone
When your pulled away by the tide in the Arm



Credits
Writer(s): Geoffo Reith
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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