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lyrics

Well I’m back.
Back on the barstool where I buried my priors, became a bold liar.
Kindled the fires from the ashes, smoldered and died.
And I collapsed,
Collapsed in the corner where I lost my balance, in a broken down palace.
The bartender Alice assists my suicide.

Last night, had a fight with Crown Royal,
Crawled blocks off of Bleeker, curled up with a speaker,
Just blaring Bob Seeger, rekindling them Hollywood nights.
And I’ll try, I’ll try to forget ‘em,
The fucked up recollections, reality suspensions,
The bad dream collections that’ll linger the rest of my life.

It’s a beautiful Sunday in Lower Manhattan.
I’m hoping that one day these pains fade away.
They won’t serve bloody mary’s until twelve hours till Monday,
And I’m shakin’ and waitin’ on Avenue A.

Well it’s trite, in spite of my bitching
When I bring up the bad days, bought in to full ash trays.
Bruises on my legs have prayed for a betrayal too long.
So I’ll write.
Write for ears that won’t hear me and won’t even attempt to,
I’ll defend all my friends who made all my fears come true by screaming
For all my sad songs.

And it’s a beautiful Sunday in Lower Manhattan.
I’m hoping that one day these pains fade away.
They won’t serve bloody mary’s until twelve hours till Monday,
And I’m shakin’ and waitin’ on Avenue A.

credits

from As The Sparks Fly Upward, released October 20, 2023

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Harvest Thieves Austin, Texas

Jagged little country band.

harvestthieves.com

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