Twisting Knobs from Bronze Age by Flying Needle

I was twenty-five
And the days and the nights were long.
Up late twisting knobs.
Working at my shitty job.

Held together by glue.
Long before I met you.
I was broken in two
long before I met you.

Now all I have is the truth.
I’ve seen it from a Greyhound bus.
I’ve seen it screamin’ down Route 9.
And disappearing in the dust.

Sometimes I got angel’s wings.
Sometimes we go to hell.
I’ve always got a pocket of coins
and life is just a wishing well.

On a street in Savannah
Under the Spanish moss.
Way off of the beaten track
How did we get so lost?
We let the traffic die down.
Before we made our way.
All those vibrant colors of the past,
shot through with a touch of gray.

Now all I have is the truth.
I’ve seen it from a Greyhound bus.
I’ve seen it screamin’ down Route 9.
And disappearing in the dust.

• Alternative
• Experimental
• bedroom pop
• power pop
• rock and roll
• Philadelphia