Bombs Over Providence: Broken Records
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Bombs Over Providence: Broken Records
Well, it was all roses and wine circa 1999.
Back when my mentors spoke through headphones and my victories all had soundtracks.
I'm only getting back there just today
by the good graces of those to whom I ache to say "Thanks for playing the way you play."
'Cuz all I stand for are these broken records.
And all I stand for are these broken records.
You know what? Screw the kids.
Screw the battles I won't win due to the condescending ways by which I try to promote change.
Because when all is said, My heroes are all dead,
Save for those precious few who stayed as strong as the backbones of their protest songs.
Just when that needle hits the groove, walls shake, floors break, this body moves.
The smoky nightclubs are where I grew in 4/4 time.
Revolt, resist, and press repeat, I'm fighting with my tapping feet.
This time, this song, they're mine.
The local halls where I grew a spine.
I came alive again tonight watching the great blow minds
simply by taking the time to convince us we're in a mismatches fight.
You know I wouldn't change a thing.
To have grown up this way, nothing will ever be the same, nor could I go back to quieter days.
Just when that needle hits the groove, walls shake, floors break, this body moves.
The smoky nightclubs are where I grew up in 4/4 time.
Revolt, resist, and press repeat, I'm fighting with my tapping feet.
This time, this song, they're mine.
The local halls where I grew a spine.
And heart. And eyes. And a tongue to cut 'em all down to size.
You must excuse these tired lines, but they've always suited me fine.
I get what it means to gamble hard, to flirt with losing all but heart.
Got a dancehall putsch? Hey, you know I'm in it.
All for 78 revolutions a minute.
Just when that needle hits the groove, walls shake, floors break, this body moves.
The smoky nightclubs are where I grew up in 4/4 time.
Revolt, resist, and press repeat, I'm fighting with my tapping feet.
This time, this song, they're mine.
The local halls where I grew a spine.
And heart. And eyes. And a tongue to cut 'em all down to size.
This time, this song, they're mine, all mine.
They're ours.
Back when my mentors spoke through headphones and my victories all had soundtracks.
I'm only getting back there just today
by the good graces of those to whom I ache to say "Thanks for playing the way you play."
'Cuz all I stand for are these broken records.
And all I stand for are these broken records.
You know what? Screw the kids.
Screw the battles I won't win due to the condescending ways by which I try to promote change.
Because when all is said, My heroes are all dead,
Save for those precious few who stayed as strong as the backbones of their protest songs.
Just when that needle hits the groove, walls shake, floors break, this body moves.
The smoky nightclubs are where I grew in 4/4 time.
Revolt, resist, and press repeat, I'm fighting with my tapping feet.
This time, this song, they're mine.
The local halls where I grew a spine.
I came alive again tonight watching the great blow minds
simply by taking the time to convince us we're in a mismatches fight.
You know I wouldn't change a thing.
To have grown up this way, nothing will ever be the same, nor could I go back to quieter days.
Just when that needle hits the groove, walls shake, floors break, this body moves.
The smoky nightclubs are where I grew up in 4/4 time.
Revolt, resist, and press repeat, I'm fighting with my tapping feet.
This time, this song, they're mine.
The local halls where I grew a spine.
And heart. And eyes. And a tongue to cut 'em all down to size.
You must excuse these tired lines, but they've always suited me fine.
I get what it means to gamble hard, to flirt with losing all but heart.
Got a dancehall putsch? Hey, you know I'm in it.
All for 78 revolutions a minute.
Just when that needle hits the groove, walls shake, floors break, this body moves.
The smoky nightclubs are where I grew up in 4/4 time.
Revolt, resist, and press repeat, I'm fighting with my tapping feet.
This time, this song, they're mine.
The local halls where I grew a spine.
And heart. And eyes. And a tongue to cut 'em all down to size.
This time, this song, they're mine, all mine.
They're ours.
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Bombs Over Providence: Broken Records
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Bombs Over Providence: Broken Records
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Cobra Constant Committee Bake Sale
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Dig Them Up And Try To Reason With Them
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Class Aptitude Test Results Are In, And It's Martyr Or Matador For Everybody!
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Pink Slip 1:30% Resistance To Your Daughter's New Pony
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The 18th Brumaire Of Boomer Ellsworth
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Polecane na dziś
Teksty piosenek
-
Miłość jest ślepa
Sanah
„Kochanie mnie to jak pory roku Po miesiącach mroku Słońce świeci zza chmur Kochanie mnie to poza do skoku Nad przepaścią głęboką Potem już tylko w dół Kochanie mnie jak zima w pergoli Mró”
-
Genziara
Genzie
„mam pewność siebie, to praca nie dar oni mi piszą, że ja to mam fart przeżyłam tsunami, hejtu tyle fal nie mogłam już więcej dać, z siebie wiem, wiem najlepiej co na mnie stać jak gwiazda na nieb”
-
100 BPM - feat. Bletka
Kizo
„Nad miastem unosi się dym Dziś każdy porusza się w tańcu I serce wybija nam rytm Nie braknie nam promieni słońca Gdy mieni się golden hour Którego nie dotykasz końca Chce z Tobą tańczyć jak nikt”
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Nie mówiła nic
EMO
„Znowu siedzę z sobą całkiem sam a jedno co jest pewne chciałem to mam o tobie trudno jest zapomnieć ot tak nie mówiła nic chciała z tobą być lubiła solo tańczyć aż po świt kochałem ją jak nik”
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Pilnie oddam gruz
Daj To Głośniej
„Miałeś wyglądać jak Dicaprio miałam się wozić Twoim cabrio w basenie sączyć Aperole a Ty wyglądasz tak że ja, że ja Cię nie chcę Miałeś być jak z bajki pantofle, a nie stare najki gdzie mogę ”
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