Sandbox from Musicians Wanted by The Soakers

I’m drunk at the park again,
Walking only in circles,
That just don’t seem to end.

The wind and the trees are talking to me,
Trying to make sure that I don’t pass out asleep,

Another afternoon is gone,
It looks like I won’t be able to finish all these songs,
I started writing with my stash of broken pens,
That I’ve had in my head since I can’t remember when.

I’m wastin’ my days with myself,
Playing in the sandbox with me and no one else,
But my cigarettes, my ignorance,
and all of the booze I keep from you,
From you.

My fridge is empty by four,
All of this was supposed to last another seven days,
I can’t take these feelings anymore,
I guess I risk driving to the corner liquor store.

I’m wastin’ my days with myself,
Playing in the sandbox with me and no one else,
But my cigarettes, my ignorance,
and all of the booze I keep from you,
From you.

I woke up on the couch again,
All I hear is my dog whining at the door and,
The last few days have been drowned in,
Shame, ethanol, and calls with your girlfriend.

I’m wastin’ my days with myself,
Playing in the sandbox with me and no one else,
But my cigarettes, my ignorance,
and all of the booze I keep from you,
From you.
From you.

• Garage
• Punk
• Street
• Salt Lake City