Presets on the stereo,
I fell in love with a microphone.
There must have been something appealing about it now and then.
Beware all the warning signs,
the no-show weekends and dead-end nights.
I'm almost at my car.
Just tell me you're awake.
I'm hopeless with the nights I take,
when everything was slipping way.
All I've got is today.
Are we so alone, rotating beds and rotating homes.
There's a bridge for 3 coins and the tokens I'll never spend.
We waste our days away.
We're the bastard sons of dismay.
We waste our days away.
If I stop this dies right now.
I've got the heart and soul of this sound
Young men and a stereo,
bastard sons of mayhem now,
and we wont go home.
Cut the anchors, and cut the lies.
We offer slurs for the glassy eyed.
I'm almost at my car.
Just tell me you're awake.
Take the bash, and bruise inside.
I cut my anchors. I cut my lies.
I'm almost at my car.