1. |
Whipstaff Manor
04:09
|
|||
|
There's a name for this denial. It's the golden age thinking, Erroneous notion that a different time period would be better than the one, The one we're residing in, And I break & bend. I'm a candle burning at both ends. I feel like I'm losing my best friend.
I've got some unfinished business to attend to. I guess I'm doomed from the fallacies I put you through. What am I...am I a ghost? If you could see me now. (Stop your haunting, Stop your taunting. Just get to crossing over.)
There's so many shadows in this home. It's so hard to pinpoint which ones are our own. And I know I'm reaping what I've sewn, Hexed from all the vacant chances that I've blown.
What's lost cannot be found. Careless and tired, We kept our guards down. Can I crawl into your head. I want solace. No wait, I'm dead.
Angels fight saints for riches, while I'm just playing for keeps.
|
||||
2. |
The Writing On The Wall
03:04
|
|||
|
White is the color of my wildest dreams, Like the pills I took for my self esteem. The past is bold, but I'm righting the wrongs, As I bang my head to disposable songs. I wanna rebuild and hose the bridges that I've burned. I need to regild, Revise the chapters that I've turned.
Call off the hunt, Call off the search. I saw it poised, I saw it perched. Like a subtle dove, On the shoulder of another man's worth.
Clear as the writing on the wall, I always knew that this was my fault. Voices coming from the hall, telling me to take the fall.
Clear as the writing on the wall, I always knew that this was my fault. Standing still, I felt distraught. My guts are tied up in a knot.
The vial I keep my hardships in irritates my skin, It's filled to the brim. This fucking place has severed my limbs, On testing grounds of sink or swim.
I wanna rebuild and hose the bridges that I've burned. I need to regild, Revise the chapters that I've turned.
Our lives unfold into maps of stories untold. There's an antidote to help the process as we grow old.
|
||||
3. |
Crocodile Tears
04:20
|
|||
|
Go on and wipe your face, You've made a mess of this one. When you're swallowed by disgrace, Will you learn your lesson? There's no more cards left up your sleeves. Your lucks' run out, You hopeless sleaze. It's run out.
It's not a prize worth taking. It's not a life worth saving.
Tried to wash the red from your hands. There's no chance.
So who's your next appeaser, Is the water getting deeper? Ask yourself.
Go on and wipe your face, You've made a mess of this one. And when you're swallowed by disgrace, Will you learn your lesson? You're a firewalker without a tribe. Kept in solitaire, Living off bribes. I know now.
Fingers bruised, Yellows and blues. Fastened with fathom in truth. I'm doing all I can to refuse. Fingers bruised, Yellows and blues. Fastened with fathom in truth. I left home and found new shoes.
I tried to wash the red from your hands, with romance. I tried to wash the red from your hands. There's no chance.
You've earned your strife upon other men's blood. Go shed your crocodile tears in the mud.
|
||||
4. |
Small Time Crooks
02:54
|
|||
|
Always on the same extension. Smother with heed and fair attention. The lights are out but our fate is secure. Partners in crime, For richer or poorer.
Dear mistress, What I couldn't do with a little bit of money and a handful of you.
I'll pour it out to you from rooftops, I'm not afraid. It's an anthem of embezzled love. We're thieves in our own way. Taking what we want, never worried with safeways.
You had nothing on but the radio. Body swaying, You were moving slow. The lights are out but our fate is secured. Partners in crime, For richer or poorer.
We felt the cold breeze collide with the summer heat, It took the time to exfoliate all around me. The sky was black, It put us straight to sleep. We'll never lose sight of what's locked beneath.
|
||||
5. |
Traditions
03:22
|
|||
|
Are these traditions all that we'll ever need? We spend and consume, We slave and repeat.
I'm feeling separated. Are you separated?
We all have our own axe to grind. When it's worn down, Don't fall in line. We all have our own trials to bind. When you're worn out, Don't close your mind.
We write to inform, Not to validate how we feel, Because they expect us to conform, To their selfish Ideals. Everyone has been docked out into the streets, Gasping for air, We can't afford to breathe.
Heavy lies the head that wears the crown. United, we'll swindle it back and bring hope with a new sound. Go.
|
||||
6. |
Glass Casket
03:33
|
|||
|
When the line between fact and fiction becomes hopelessly blurred, Our eyes fill in with superstition from every word. Strung up on our own perspectives, Failing to see that it's ineffective.
But I am here and I understand. Pull yourself above the ropes and take my hand.
You've turned the skylines into gallows. I see the pain that's been bestowed. Hung yourself from the farthest star, Your spirit flaunts the biggest scar. The biggest scar.
Somewhere deep inside our bones, The emptiness grows. But don't succumb to this despair, It's something that we both share. One foot in the grave, Hoping that heaven is waiting. Well it's not, So break this glass casket and start celebrating.
I feel you.
|
||||
If you like Crocodile Tears, you may also like:
The Weight That You Buried
by Knuckle Puck
supported by 12 fans who also own “Crocodile Tears”
It’s bands just like these that make me the pop punk fan I am.
go to album
Don't Come Home
by Knuckle Puck
supported by 11 fans who also own “Crocodile Tears”
This is what started it all, Like forming my own mosh pit in my moms living room while no one was home.
go to album
supported by 11 fans who also own “Crocodile Tears”
2012 was a great year. Still come back to this EP quite often, pure nostalgia for my youth. Thanks for the memories, Crooks.
go to album
Rising Philadelphia band balance oversized pop punk hooks with vivid, intimate lyrics, presenting a raw, honest vision of guitar music.
go to album
Meandering guitars, laid-back vocals, and catchy choruses make this the perfect end of summer album.
go to album
All Day, Every Day, All Night
by Del Paxton
An emo masterwork that hones in on the brutal isolation of upstate New York.
go to album
