Obsolete Motives
Album: Nothing To Call Our Own
By: The Bogarts
By: The Bogarts
Duration
1:55
Genres
Lyrics
The swivel chair, the open book. The words are jumping off the page. Relatively equal, ancient technology. We're smacking machines in desperate rage. You gave me a stopwatch and told me to run, And I flipped the switch and jumped the gun. With the lights out, We walked on the sidewalk and stepped on the cracks. Bit by bit, I'm writing our lives. I'm picking apart what makes us alive: Theocratic beliefs, obsolete motives, Bullets in each other's heads for equality. You gave me a grenade and told me to run, And I pulled the pin and ducked the guns. With the lights out, We stayed down in the ditch and avoided attacks. Nothing to say, nothing to call our own. Besides "I wish I was dead" and the clothes on our backs. We've grown used to the idea of "together, alone." And we'll wait for the spotlight to be followed by the gunshot.
