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• Artiste: Patients
• Titre: Tall Tale No. 5
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well I was born on a Sunday with blood on my hands in a room full of photographs and old electric fans and I slept in a graveyard for bicycles and cars and I dreamed of distant scenery but never strayed too far cause I do what they ask me I never run my mouth and by the time you turn against me I'll have you figured out and I learned to lie by watching you turn to your enemies and the apple you've got in your eye has become a stain, you don't want it so I left for the city as soon as I could walk but the buildings loomed like sentinels, it wasn't what I thought so I slept in your bathtub while you put your makeup on and I daydreamed about your lungs til your cigarettes were gone now I wrote cause I have to I'm never welcome home though this road leads to disaster I've always got my songs and I learned to laugh by watching you burn all your photographs and you're right that the good stuff won't last but these wars are never won by our twiddling thumbs. well I did what they asked me I never ran my mouth and by the time they turned against me I had them figured out and now I wrote cause I have to I'm never welcome home and though this road leads to disaster I've always got my songs I learned to die by watching you choke on your misery and if the apple is torn from my eye well I won't be alone cause I'm going home