Yesterday was a bad day.
Today is not.
All of my troubles have melted away
In the dark.
And none of them have an author anymore,
Having written them all off.
And today, just like I thought
I stop god.

Aint going to hell
Aint under your spell no more
Aint playing the parts
Aint playing the roles no more

Cause I know a fake when I see it.
All those slow hymnals make it harder to pretend
I can feel it.
Just cause you're saying the loudest or the longest.
I still know a fake when I see it

On one side, I find the same
And it might be -
 Maybe there's more than one way

Gonna have to find time is what tells you;
dispels the myth leaving the truth
Gonna live your own lies that destroy you.
Make up reasons for following through.

But you gotta know a fake when you see it
Don't let slow sermons make it harder
Don't pretend you can feel it
You gotta know a fake when you see it.
Just cause you're saying the loudest or the longest.
I still know a fake when I see it

Aint going to hell
Aint under your spell no more
Aint playing the parts
Aint playing the roles no more

Leaving behind all my beliefs and doctrines, because I know a fake when I see it.


Fake

Never In A Good Way

Behave

Tie these ropes, real tight. 
Won't make a difference.
 Won't keep me all night.
Throw away the keys. 
Won't need games cause they won't stop me.
Bury me alive. 
The devil's got a shovel and he's on my side.
Maybe grip a little less tight, cause I get dizzy pretending that it's alright.

I've been keeping a secret, but you should really know who you're with. 
I got a reputation. 
They call me the escape artist.
You could use all your locks and chains.
You could shut all windows and doors.
Nothing's gonna make me stay.
They call me the escape artist.

Just say that everything's alright.
Just say you won't get mad again.
It's not in my nature not to run so I keep repeating, repeating, repeating..

I've been keeping a secret, but you should really know who you're with. 
I got a reputation. 
They call me the escape artist.
You could use all your locks and chains.
You could shut all windows and doors.
Nothing's gonna make me stay.
They call me the escape artist.

Bury me alive. The devil's got a shovel and he's on my side.
Maybe grip a little less tight.

Without wasting too much time. With no clever tricks or guile.
I've been known to disappear but I've warned them every time.
I think you can do better and I'm trying to stay put.
Being still is never easy. 
Hard to change what's been the truth.


Just say that everything's alright.
Just say you won't get mad again.
It's not in my nature not to run so I keep repeating, repeating, repeating..


I've been keeping a secret, but you should really know who you're with. 
I got a reputation. 
They call me the escape artist.
You could use all your locks and chains.
You could shut all windows and doors.
Nothing's gonna make me stay.
They call me the escape artist.

Bury me alive. The devil's got a shovel and he's on my side.
Maybe grip a little less tight, cause I get dizzy pretending that it's alright.

The Escape Artist

You put the gun in my hand and then you played dead.
And even so see through, I crossed my heart and I swore to believe you.
And what I have left, it might be worse than just a mess.
There's blood on the pages but lacking intention and lacking a message. 

And suddenly I feel sick, like I don't belong here.
Like every song's just one big trick, from the words to the stylings.
And now the air's gun powder thick.
It's as if by design and I don't believe in coincidence.
You put the gun in my hand.
You put the gun in my hand.

I saw it all through a haze from gasoline to flame.
And by the sunrise nearly nothing remained or it wasn't the same.
And what I have left, I'd really rather just forget.
Was this all my fault or just something you wanted?
Something you started?


And suddenly I feel sick, like I don't belong here.
Like every song's just one big trick, from the words to the stylings.
And now the air's gun powder thick.
It's as if by design and I don't believe in coincidence.
You put the gun in my hand.
You put the gun in my hand.

The Gun In My Hand

Why don't you pick on somebody much smaller
if your bark is so much worse than your bite?
Fists up. Because I think I can take ya.
All I gotta do is get you talkin, 
Algebra, Science, Evolution
You get so lost in the verbage.

Oh, god I don't understand how this just keeps on, keeps on happening.
(I'm sorry, I'm sorry)
I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
I just remembered that we're friends.
And the power my words have.
And the hate that they could spread.
And the screens in between; they don't seem to help
But I still say I'm sorry.

Why don't you tell me that story about way back when
You were the hero and the victim
Worked for years, hand and knees till they bleed,
But no Thank You card
No Get Well Soon coming from the system when you fall
You said you knew you would all along

Can't understand how this just keeps on just keeps on happenin.
(I'm sorry, I'm sorry)
It might be, because sometimes I don't even think about the words I've said
(I'm sorry, I'm sorry)
Or the power that they have.
Or the love I could be spreadin'
I let my anger on the screen instead
I never learn, but I swear that I'm sorry.
(I'm sorry, I'm sorry)
I promise. I promise.
Till the end of my days I keep making mistakes, but I am
I'm sorry
(I'm sorry, I'm sorry)

Fists Up & I'm Sorry

Back off, you sneaky mother fucker, 
'cause I got you figured out now
There was a time I would have loved you for the asking, 
but that was long before all the lies started up

And I swear, even though they were your lies,
I'm still the one who fell for it.
I gotta promise that no one gets out unscathed 
and you know I bruise
You know I bruise
You know I bruise the easiest

But then again those times on the porch outside
In the car at night with all that music in the air
But then again those times on the porch outside
In the car at night with all that music in the air

Just stop
Cause I can do it better and I don't need any help now
Besides, you tried and sweet christ! What a failure
And there's still a pile of ash on the ground

And I swear, even though they were your lies,
I'm still the one who fell for it.
I gotta promise that no one gets out unscathed 
and you know I keep my
You know. You know.
You know I keep my promises.

Motherfucker

The Breakfast Club

The Wandering Sort is Jourdanne B. DeLovely and sometimes her friends, but normally just her home studio and a soulful voice of personal story-telling. 
:: Lo-Fi Trip Hop-Folk Fusion ::

The Wandering Sort

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