BROKEN STUFF - Ghost Songs


Relief comes with the smoky dawn, wrapped in a cadavers uniform
A long nights sweats, dried and drawn
Three cigarettes and a milky tea, this routes got it's celebrities
Shufflin' ghosts like crumpled notes...

Mama I'm sick of lyin', but the sun never catches me cryin'
Broken things, broken stuff
Sometimes it aint the hits that get ya
Sometimes it aint the hits that get ya
Sometimes you've just had enough

There's two types vying for the shield attention
Bike riders dressed as dolphins and our procession
Mumblin' messes of  guilt and questions
As the dew hits my socks to douse alarm
Set off by midnight daydreams and charms
There but for the grace o god...

Mama I'm sick of lyin', but the sun never catches me cryin'
Broken things, broken stuff
Sometimes it aint the hits that get ya
Sometimes it aint the hits that get ya
Sometimes you’ve just had enough