Rivals from Unanimated Shorts by Les Frères Heureux

The soul of a nation
Is the hearts of its men
I ran through the silence
Till I heard music again
The trophies mean nothing
'Cause the game isn't real
And the applause is a devil at the crossroads
And he says, let's make a deal

I'm tired of the shouting
And I'm tired of sides
And I'm tired of the news and opinions
Up to and including mine
And I'm tired of the thrashing and lurching
And all the whiplash and stress
I want to be where
The pendulum rests

I miss being simple
I miss being plain
I ran to the Lord as a child
And I told him my name
So I don't get to have rivals
And I don't get to have foes
But somehow to steward this thing that
No one else knows

• Folk
• folk rock
• indie rock
• Peoria