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Lyrics of Bed Bugs by Fred Thomas
Let′s stop and talk on a slow street
Your guy is cross-eyed and muttering
Looks at me like "Now who the fuck is he?"
And I tell you, man, I wish that I knew
Trash-scavenged mattress and a stuffed bear
Bedbugs crawling through your lover's hair
You got that thousand yard stare
I get itchy just from talking to you
Drained hopes sinking with the August sun
Floating out on the freshman year beer run
It′s so hard to have fun
But there used to be a way to get through
All your amazed days fade
But all of the damned dogs they think they've got it made
And no matter what you say
You know that you are gonna do it anyway
Do it anyway
Knuckle tattoo says "I H8 2 LIVE"
On another dickhead who assures me that I'm just too sensitive
You can′t tell everybody to fuck off forever
Then be mortified when they finally do
You had a textbook breakthrough on a shaky plane
Seated next to kid, hyperventilating
She′s so embarrassed by her dad's use of slang
And nobody ever gets to feel cool
These days I′m only saying something if I'm swaying
That′s the only time it doesn't feel like I′m explaining
So if you see me and I seem too entertaining
I'm not singing, I'm just talking to you
But you don′t want a funeral unless everybody comes
And you don′t want to kiss until you're adequately numb
And you don′t want to speak, not even just to say goodbye
Because you don't want to share how you′re in shadows all the time
And you don't want to think about the people that you knew
They′re a tug on your sleeve, they're an embarrassment to you
Just some bones in the sun, just a decomposing rind
Just a sitcom that aired before you were even alive
Your friends are full-length mirrors that you pulled out of the garbage
Orange juice soaked cotton balls to convince you you're not starving
You need somebody to fuck, someone to call when you get down
And some people to make wonder why they even stick around
Now you don′t want to drink, you say it feels just the same as water
And you don′t actually even like me, I just subconsciously remind you of your father
His flannel shirts that smelled like cigarettes and rain
And a whole catalog of things that you wish never had to change
But it's never been quite like it was when you were a kid
Puffy eyes, play fights, bug bites, Jif peanut butter, Cinnamon Toast Crunch, strawberry allergy, beestings
All of the people are asleep
But tomorrow the punks and the cops will both have to eat
And whatever those people say
You know that you′ve got to do it anyway
Do it anyway.
Writer(s): Alfred Iii Moore Thomas
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All Are Saved
Album • 2015 • 11 tracks
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