Music Video

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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Waxahatchee
Waxahatchee
Performer
Brad Cook
Brad Cook
Bass
Katie Crutchfield
Katie Crutchfield
Vocals
Nick Kinsey
Nick Kinsey
Drums
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Brad Cook
Brad Cook
Producer
Gerardo "Jerry" Ordóñez
Gerardo "Jerry" Ordóñez
Engineer

Lyrics

I lose my grip, I drive out far Past fireworks at the old trailer park And folding chairs, American flags Selling tomatoes at five bucks a bag When she was young, she kept to herself Now she regrets sending me straight to Hell She kissed my cheek, she touched my skin She said "you're just as stupid as I was back then" If I burn out like a lighbulb They'll say "she wasn't meant for that life" They'll put it all in a capsule and save it for a dark night When we were kids, free as the air With a violence craving to turn up somewhere A tap dancer, a memorized number An avalanche of the deep red clay earth When it got bad, Arkadelphia Road I couldn't cry, I just pick up the load And feign a strength, try to force your hand But you leave a promise wherever it may land If you get real close to the ending I hope you know I did what I could We try to give it all meaning Glorify the grain of the wood Tell ourselves what's beautiful and good I hold on tight, come in from far I watch the baby run around the yard Get lonely for what I'll never know Losing the thread of a story, overtold If we luck out, free as the air With an unrest craving to spill everywhere We'll weight what's good and get real old Keep driving straight searching for a heart of gold If we make pleasant conversation Hope you can't see what's burning in me To see a slip as a failure A balance I couldn't keep You count the rings for truth you'll never cheat
Writer(s): Kathryn Crutchfield Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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