 | Albums |
just want the proof
give you gave
dirt on me
since we danced outside
runaway whoop dee doo
always get what i want
moment of the river
apathy
big guns
juke box lady
you don't have to . . .
. . .mention it again
on our own tonight
holdin' on today
I, I see you*
Pickin' at the skin of your freshly cut tattoo.
You're finally on your way
Who cares what they might say
No one ever really understands you anyway.
Chorus:
Big guns, small dreams.
Life's not worth much, it seems.
You might be a Nazi 'cause you need to fit in,
Or you might play the lottery 'cause one day you will win.
Maybe you will stay in school.
You're nobody's fool.
As long as you can keep some friends and they all think you're cool.
Chorus.
Bridge:
We don't like guitars
We don't wanna be a rock-and-roll star.
We won't venture very far.
We don't wanna know who we are.
Hardware, Software.
Is anybody out there? Is any of this fair?
Does anybody really care? Is anyone aware?
Hey, is that you talkin' to me? Is that you lookin' at me?
Chorus x3
*Or "I I C U"
Notes:
Gunshot by Laura Hubert
Vocals by Mark Mariash
Produced by Joe Hardy and the Spits, Memphis. In Joe's Garage (his actual garage).
Recorded by Joe Hardy
Mixed by "Agnes of Joe" Hardy at Ardent Studios, Memphis.
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