Party Martyrs

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This place is the kind of town
that pulls you back just to knock you down
The kind of place you go back to when there’s nothing left to lose
The streets have all the same names
but the shop fronts and owners have all changed
Or maybe they’re all just a little bit haggard with age

I don’t want to be here any more than you
But we’re both at the end of our ropes
and one of us has to have scissors.

This place is the blackest hole,
a dog-eared page, a last resort
A consolation prize for those who were never told they could have more

And I can’t keep living like a spectre, trying to disappear
While you’re dying to party, dying for your party
Die, come on, let’s disappear

And I never asked for you to be there for me in my time of need
But you never asked to never leave
So while we’re both stuck here, pour me another drink
So we’ll sink down to the local watering hole
Where we’ve been so many times before
But hell, what’s one more drink?
Raise a glass, tip ‘em back to those who passed
To those already passed
To those who passed...
Raise a glass, tip em back
To those already passed


from Born To Run In Place, released December 18, 2016



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