1. |
Photobooth
03:46
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I remember when the days were long
and the nights when the living room was on the lawn.
Constant quarreling the childish fits
and our clothes in a pile on the ottoman.
All the slander and double speak were only foolish attempts
to show you did not mean,
anything but the blatant proof was your lips touching mine in the photobooth.
And as the summers ending the cold air rush your hard heart away.
You were so condescending,
and this is all that's left
scraping paper to document.
I've packed a change of clothes and it's time to move on.
Cup your mouth to compress the sound,
skinny dipping with the kids from a nearby town.
And everything that I said was true
as the flashes blinded us in the photobooth.
Well I lost track when those words were said,
you took the wheel and you steered us into my bed,
and soon we woke and I walked you home
and it was pretty clear that is was hardly love.
And as the summers ending,
the cold air will rush your hard heart away.
You were so condescending,
and this is all that's left scraping paper to document.
I've packed a change of clothes and it's time to move on.
And as the summers ending,
the cold air will rush your hard heart away.
You were so condescending,
as the alcohol drained the days.
And as the summers ending,
the cold air will rush your hard heart away.
You were so condescending.
And this is all that's left,
The empty bottles spent cigarettes so pack a change of clothes
'cause its time to move on.
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2. |
Technicolor Girls
03:38
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Technicolor girls are always on the phone,
Talking about their homes,
And the conversations continue endlessly.
Technicolor boys, transistor radios,
Blasting their treble tones,
And the arguments are disputed after school,
In the parking lot as the teachers bend the rules.
Patiently you waited for a courting boy's embrace,
Then everyone would know.
But the letter jacket wasn't yours to own,
And it proves to be on a temporary loan.
And as they all grow older, the truth will be Understood,
Cause we never turn out the way we thought we would.
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3. |
Song For Kelly Huckaby
03:51
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Photographs of the best time you had,
Windows smudged by the speed.
Leaving home with our bags from Iron Street,
As morning turned into California,
And smoke trailed from the butt of my cigarette.
Our glass house it threw rocks at all those it past.
Waking up to the sound of 5 A.M. to take my turn at the wheel.
Climbed up Shasta, oh how the engine ached
As the sun tortured California,
And old alleys turned deep at the heart of me.
Murals of heroes defacing the blank concrete.
Vision tunneled, Mission Street, hunger beat
Lodged out as the engine wheezed.
Still moving regardless of stable ground
And this stable ground.
Photographs of the best time you had,
Windows smudged by the speed.
Leaving home with our bags from Iron street
As morning turned into California.
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4. |
405 (Acoustic)
02:59
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I took the 405 and drilled a stake down into your center
And stated that it's never ever been better than this
I hung my favorite shirt on the floorboard, wrinkled up from pulling pushing and tasting
You keep twisting the truth
That keeps me thrown askew
Misguided by the 405 cause it lead me to an alcoholic summer
I missed the exit to your parents' house hours ago
Red wine and the cigarettes
Hide your bad habits underneath the patio
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5. |
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Synapse to Synapse, the possibility's thin
I'm dressed up for free drinks
And family greetings on your wedding
Your wedding
Your wedding date
The figures in plastic
On the wedding cake
That I took
Were so real
And I kept a distance
The complications cloud
The postcards and blips through fiberoptics
As the girls with the pigtails
Were running from little boys wearing bowties
Their parent bought them
I'll catch you this time
Crashing through the parlor doors
What was your first reaction?
Screaming, drunk, disorderly
I'll tell you mine
You were the one
But I can't spit it out
When the date's been set
The white routine to be ingested inaccurately
Synapse to Synapse
The sneaky kids had attached beer cans
To the bumper so they could drive
Up and down the main drag
People would turn to see
Who's making the racket
It's not the first time
When they lay down
The fish will swim upstream
And I'll contest but they won't listen
When the casualty rate's near 100%
Tnd there isn't a pension for second best
Or for hardly moving
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Death Cab for Cutie Seattle, Washington
Death Cab for Cutie is an American alternative rock band formed in Bellingham, Washington in 1997. The band is composed of Ben Gibbard, Nick Harmer, Jason McGerr, Dave Depper, and Zac Rae. They have been nominated for eight Grammy Awards. The band’s tenth studio album ‘Asphalt Meadows’ is out now. ... more
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