Fakin' from Four Doors by The Cold Desert

You're all fakin'. I can feel your hearts a-breakin'
and a-bleedin' through my fingers as i squeeze
with all the anger of a jealous boy with seven years
of livin' in his bones, and he knows his parents
never loved him so he beats up on his cousins.
Oh, his parents never loved him their whole marriage
was a cover.
He and his brother were and accidental consequence
of makin' love, of one time feelin' vulnerable beneath
the covers.
Now the family's a shambles, now the family's just
scrambled eggs and microwaved potato fries,
believin' all the devil's lies. Takin' comfort in the devil's
thighs, oh you are all just fakin' life!
But no, I don't blame you. It's not and never was your fault. I love you like a blissful boy with six years in a house of joy, playin' with all his plastic toys in sandboxes and jungle gyms.
His mom and dad make time for him.
His mom and dad would die for him.
They teach him to be disciplined, and say his prayers beside his bed, to eat all of his vegetables, to mind his manners, nod his head.
His older brother's willful, but one day he'll grow out of it. One day he'll be a gentleman who eats all of his vegetables. One day he'll marry into wealth and never shall be vulnerable.
I don't blame you! I don't blame you!
That's what I want to believe too.

• Fakin
• Mandolin
• Riff
• Rock
• Roots Rock
• Phoenix