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about

This song's about burnouts having more direction in life than I do.
-Ivan

lyrics

Is my "Yes We Can" shirt ironic enough to wear
Or does it mean I still believe in hope or change?
I'll get my friends now to ask my friends then
If that night's high still remains
The thrift district burned down in the centre of my town
Where all our burnouts convened
The project kids that trashed place still
Left living gutter dreams

At least they've got somewhere to go
At least they've got nowhere to be
While I'm still STUCK OUT HERE on High Street
When I'm too old not to leave
'Cause I'm no longer young enough to stay
And rest on what I know alone
But I'm too sad and scared to admit
That I'm losing all sense of home

And we are quiet bears
We are too goddamn comfortable
We are sleeping through the most of our winter
And you'll find us there
Laying dormant in the woods
I don't need to be understood
I just need you to listen

My own girlfriend can't even stand my songs
Or how I hold guitars on stage
We sell out of shitty t-shirts
Just so the band can get paid
But we never make a dollar
It always goes to the next expense
By the time we make back what we put in
There's money waiting to be spent

This is a well-oiled machine
I'm not claiming to be the first
To be holding onto something
And waiting for it to burst
But I see the gaps on main street
Where the arcade used to be
I see the same gaps in every goddamn town we pass through
And I struggle to believe

That we are quiet bears
Who are too goddamn comfortable
Who are sleeping through the most of our winter
'Cause when the earth shakes
We start prodding where we stand
I don't think I'll ever understand
But I'm ready to listen

We put candles in the bottoms of our bottles
And we danced in the beerlight
Somewhere a star fuzzed out and that was it
If this whole goddamn town burned down
Who'd give a shit?

credits

from Last Night, This Morning, track released May 2, 2011

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STUCK OUT HERE Toronto, Ontario

We sing party angst anthems.

For bookings: stuckouthere AT gmail DOT com.

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