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Shut out, pimpled and angry.
i quietly tied all my guts into knots.
gave up on trying to make them,
i figured itand'd take them too long to look up and besides...
It was undeniably clear to me i donand't know why
when every other part of life seemed locked behind shutters
i knew what worthless dregs weand've always been.
Lucked out and found my favorite records
lying in wait at the birmingham mall.
the songs that i heard,
the occasional book
were the only fun i ever took.
and i got on with making myself.
the trick is just making yourself.
But when theyand're parking their cars on your chest
youand've still got a view of the summer sky
to make it hurt twice when your restless body
caves to its whims
and suddenly struggles to take flight...
Three thousand miles north east
i left all my friends at the morning bus stop shaking their heads.
andquot;what kind of life you dream of? youand're allergic to love.andquot;
yes i know but i must say in my own defense
itand's been undeniably dear to me, i donand't know why
when every other part of life seemed locked behind shutters
i knew the worthless dregs we are,
the selfless, loving saints we are,
the melting, sliding dice weand've always been.
The Shins
Know Your Onion
Know Your Onion
Shut out, pimpled and angry.
i quietly tied all my guts into knots.
gave up on trying to make them,
i figured itand'd take them too long to look up and besides...
It was undeniably clear to me i donand't know why
when every other part of life seemed locked behind shutters
i knew what worthless dregs weand've always been.
Lucked out and found my favorite records
lying in wait at the birmingham mall.
the songs that i heard,
the occasional book
were the only fun i ever took.
and i got on with making myself.
the trick is just making yourself.
But when theyand're parking their cars on your chest
youand've still got a view of the summer sky
to make it hurt twice when your restless body
caves to its whims
and suddenly struggles to take flight...
Three thousand miles north east
i left all my friends at the morning bus stop shaking their heads.
andquot;what kind of life you dream of? youand're allergic to love.andquot;
yes i know but i must say in my own defense
itand's been undeniably dear to me, i donand't know why
when every other part of life seemed locked behind shutters
i knew the worthless dregs we are,
the selfless, loving saints we are,
the melting, sliding dice weand've always been.
