Sometimes I Pray For Rain

by Off The Deep End

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02:41
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about

Thanks to;
Autobots, the Dei Dolori's/all of Brianwood Lane for putting up with our noise, the Cromacks for letting us record this record in their home, Johnny Malave, Alex Burns, Nick Diciancia, Steph DiBona, Life on the Sideline, Paper Jymys, The Space, girls with bangs, Morrissey, Beyonce, Bud Light Platinum, and most importantly anyone who has ever taken a single second to pay any sort of attention to this band. It's all for you.

credits

released 19 August 2013
Recorded & Mixed by Bob Cromack
Art by Johnny Malave

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Track Name: Know What I Like About Rich Kids...NOTHIN'!
Slow train wreck,
You're contagious.
A constant source
Of open sores.

Senseless friendship
Isolation is not the answer.
No hope for the future,
No future in hope
Truth is my favorite set of brass knuckles .

So if you're looking for a symphony of sympathy that's not what you'll get from me.

"It's not your right
to write it out".
Spoken like the true escape artist you are.
But anyways
In many ways
You've made a grave
You can't escape.

And you hate your friends
As much as I hate your friends
And now you're in the car and
You're crying on command.

But if you're looking for a symphony of sympathy that's not what you'll get from me.

I can't keep biting my tongue 'till pride is small enough to swallow.
Track Name: We Smoked It To The Filter
Restless
Always fucking restless
Always facing the exit
Always acting for acceptance.
And you're selfish
Though you come off helpless
Never leave empty handed
Always get what you demanded.

But if we stay separate, I'll stay desperate.

Your intentions caused some tension
Swear you had a good incentive.

A moment like this one means one more prescription.
Get a grip
Hope floats
Mercy sinks like a brick.

Blessed with
This disgusting death-wish
Forever feeling aimless
Making anguish hand over fist.
And you're a narcotic
So easy to get lost in
So I spent two winters
Wrapped around your bony fingers.

Your beauty stays reckless, I stay second best.

Regressing,
All of this back peddling,
Seems so never ending.
Track Name: F.I.N.E.
A steady diet of dying dreams
So obviously over-whelmed
An open casket catharticism
And you're at the helm.

Shooting the breeze is a waste of ammo,
Let's just get to the (hollow-tipped) point.

I'm having troubled thoughts
but I'm having trouble thinking up solutions.
I've got a few hobbies but
Self-sabotage seems to be my strong suit.

An unoccupied,
Ostracized,
Orphan,
I have never seen a love
I couldn't make cut & run.

But she said,
"Your future is so bright,
I'm surprised you don't go blind".
But I tend to focus on the things I've left behind.
Track Name: Crosses Don't Come In My Size
The more I try to hold on
The more I prove myself wrong.
No rest without love
No sleep without dreams
Obsessed with angels and machines.

I could never even say grace let alone find my saving grace.

So if I'm taking a long vacation to somewhere warm,
So be it,
Maybe I need it.
And I could always jump any gate,
So i'm not worried about "fate".
No I'm not worried about faith.

The priest is pressing me about forgiveness
As if he found deliverance as soon as he was delivered.

If I wash myself of all my sins what exactly will I have left?