Lyrics

Written and produced by Steven Clark

Grinding down to Old Dog City
The only place where I fit in
Hard times working for the mother
But it beats squirming for a living
90 days without daylight and still my crooked heart is pumping
Best thing about blacking out and waking up is that you never know what’s coming
Sometimes I feel l’m giving up like begging out and running

And they’re coming
Yeah they’re coming
No stopping
Now they’re coming
Yeah they’re coming
Can’t stop them

Hauling out to Old Dog City
Blending in with the natives
Wearing blinders swimming in dumb luck
Outlaws, crooks and creatives
Sandbox’ full of quicksand childhood’s such a short season
I’m bringing fire to your hometown above my head the crows are humming
Bad news on my doorstep once again the end is coming

When you say I don’t listen to my eyes, then you say I don’t listen to my heart

A face badly in need of a fist, you are the game and the scorekeeper all the pigs will be victors but stuffed inside the wage cage, skin hunger, earless headphones, wild things in an kingdom of rust, scorpions stinging frogs, the bubble is off plumb, sudden sharp shocks when numbering raindrops in a young city run by old dogs.