ONE DEAD THREE WOUNDED LYRICS

1. Failed Transmission

[Instrumental]

2. Cowboys Don't Look Back

You got a piece of me.
I know it ain't ever coming back.
You got a piece of me; it shows that when I play with matches, I always get burned.
And when you scream these words, carved with defensiveness, the higher you build your walls, the harder they will fall.
I can taste the fear in your lips.
Can you taste mine?
Crown me, for I am a king of fools.
Purge me, for I have a mountain of fear to climb.
Sober me up.
Sober me up.

3. Burning Bridges Is So 1999...

Paint it on a wall.
Burning bridges is so 1999.
Carve it into stone.
I guess you were looking up when you passed your footprints in the sand.
Drunk with self-righteousness, you forgot, you passed this point before.
Because if character is based on the stability of words than you're fighting a losing battle.
I never volunteered my shoulder to cry on.
It was not our duty to replace the crutch beneath your arm or become it.
Paint your words on a wall.
You'll see, they betray you.
Open your eyes.
Shut your mouth and listen.
"We don't have what stars are made of, we never had what stars are made of.
This is our inspiration.
I scream into this dead microphone for myself and no one else.
I breathe into this bag of bones because it's etched into my soul.
I scream into this dead microphone for myself."

4. Regret

God damn these frightened, frigid hands and all our long forgotten plans.
Clocks lie; we have no time and all.
I won't deny you again, my friend.
I was the one who betrayed you and Philadelphia is a ghost town without you.
Our youth is dust on the side of the road.
Let it bury the seeds of regret.
Bury the seeds of Regret.
Embed them in my chest.
Let them grow to become.
The bitter man I am.

5. Ghosts

I used to befriend ghosts like you but time has betrayed us both.
These campfire secrets are over dead men's bones with graveyard hopes of seeing home.
A mild mannered man with cheap cologne; blanketed by the arctic embrace of this city.
Those towers of money, power, and greed are the tombstones of this ghost town.
From the cemetery floor we stare up at our legacy, at the concrete reminders that we are but mere pillars of salt with eyes fixated on the moments that most have forgot.
No song can capture this moment,
No melody can encapsulate or replicate the thoughts.
So I'll sit back, relax and drink from the lip of another half empty glass sobered by the fact that you will never be a teacher and I will never be a father.
I am the artist of this lie and on this canvas I paint my crimes.

6. Welcome Home Tragedy

[Instrumental]

7. Thank God For Painkillers

I bite my nails until they bleed.
I close my eyes, I disappear.
She was my heroin; she was my love and hate.
She was perfection in a pill that takes me away.
This is life as addiction.
This is love without a gun.
This is my heart in ink as bold and black as the night we ended and as weak as your skin deep smiles.
And this pen digs me into holes I can't write out of, I can't climb out of.
These are the hands that will bury my face.
There's the floor I retreat to every time my world caves in.
These are the palms that capture tears; they never saw the light of day.
And it feels like we're fighting uphill and it feels like we're pissing in the wind.

8. Eight Dollar Prom Dress

She said, "Your eyes are everything."
But I'm the best liar you've ever seen.
We are the anti-passion.
You're thirty miles away.
We are the anti-passion.
Just meet me half way.
And when these bridges burn, I'll bleed this river dry and walk to you.
My throat will swell before I find therapy.
I point this gun at the only place where you still exist.
Here's the end to every love feelings to paper and forgotten forever.
I waste another song on heartbreak, but it sells and makes lonely kids cry.
So here's the perfect song to your perfect life; to live in a prom dress forever with a permanent smile.
Lift the glass, slit the wrist, kill the moment, fuck the love.

9. Farewell

He said, "I'm sorry for a sad farewell."
My heart is weak; it sways between the cynical and proud.
I have to turn my back on you and all of this.
This was a daytime promise and the sunlight bids adieu.
Through virgin screams and guitar strings we bore the loudest son.
His day has yet come.
Screaming idly has never been my thing or sweating for fruit that labor does not bring.
This is all for you my dear cynical son, the man who lit the match that burnt the whole world down.
Farewell, to that basement noise the virgin games of girls and boys.
Five men stand at the end of a long hard road facing a land where young hearts rule old heads, "farewell" we said, as our feet wrap around the edge.
Dear Friend, "I'll count my blessings when we hit the ground."

10. My Life As A Typo

If we're still breathing when this river invades our lungs, I'll save a bullet for you.
Our insecurities lay naked on a bed ripe for a bashing.
This is my burden and my crippled legs, can't run away from this.
In this suit and tie, I hang myself from this nylon noose with polyester pride.
Bleed me dry; for I am a dollar sign.
(And growing old is dying slow)
My Green eyes in the limelight.
(And growing old is dying slow.)
Not every cowboy rides on into the sun.
Some of them stay home and die young.
So...
Leave me, my love, as the dead leaves fade into dirt.
Leave me, my love, for I am not worth fighting for.







ONE DEAD THREE WOUNDED LYRICS