La Dispute For Mayor In Splitsville Lyrics
For Mayor in Splitsville by La Dispute
Funny what you think of
After a collapse while
Lying in the dirt
The first thing that
Comes back is never quite
What you'd have guessed
And if you could've
You probably would've sent your check
If all your limbs were intact, still and then tried to get out
We played house with the neighbors in their basement
Sister made me husband she was older so I did her bidding
I remember once, their dad came in, said,
'You think this is bad?
You don't know the half' and he laughed
It's funny what things come back,
The first things you see
How he sort of smiled like he told me a joke
But he was lying, there was something else inside of his eyes
All those secrets people tell the little children
Are warnings that they give them
Like, look I'm unhappy
Please, don't make the same mistake as me
Why are those old worn out jokes,
On married life told at toasts and receptions still?
How does it never occur, how often couples get burned
And end up certain in Splitsville?
(Funny what you think of in the wreckage)
(Lying there in bed, in the dust and the glass)
(How you're suddenly somewhere in the desert in the nighttime)
(It's getting close to Christmas)
(And then her and that movie voice she uses when she reads)
('Welcome to the Land of Enchantment' from a highway sign)
(And it's late, so you take the next exit)
When that trip ended we came back the rent was too high
I was jobless, I guess in retrospect I should've sensed decay
And that day, how you said I just don't know
And I promised we'd rearrange things
To fix the mess I made here
x4
But I guess, in the end, we just moved furniture around
Sort of feels like every day
It's harder to stay happy where you are
There are all these ways
To look through the fence into your neighbor's yard
Why even risk it, it's safer to stay distant
When it's so hard now
To just be content,
Because there's always something else
Now I'm proposing my own toast
Proposing my own joke for those married men
Maybe I'm miserable, I'd rather run for mayor
In Splitsville than suffer your jokes again
After a collapse while
Lying in the dirt
The first thing that
Comes back is never quite
What you'd have guessed
And if you could've
You probably would've sent your check
If all your limbs were intact, still and then tried to get out
We played house with the neighbors in their basement
Sister made me husband she was older so I did her bidding
I remember once, their dad came in, said,
'You think this is bad?
You don't know the half' and he laughed
It's funny what things come back,
The first things you see
How he sort of smiled like he told me a joke
But he was lying, there was something else inside of his eyes
All those secrets people tell the little children
Are warnings that they give them
Like, look I'm unhappy
Please, don't make the same mistake as me
Why are those old worn out jokes,
On married life told at toasts and receptions still?
How does it never occur, how often couples get burned
And end up certain in Splitsville?
(Funny what you think of in the wreckage)
(Lying there in bed, in the dust and the glass)
(How you're suddenly somewhere in the desert in the nighttime)
(It's getting close to Christmas)
(And then her and that movie voice she uses when she reads)
('Welcome to the Land of Enchantment' from a highway sign)
(And it's late, so you take the next exit)
When that trip ended we came back the rent was too high
I was jobless, I guess in retrospect I should've sensed decay
And that day, how you said I just don't know
And I promised we'd rearrange things
To fix the mess I made here
x4
But I guess, in the end, we just moved furniture around
Sort of feels like every day
It's harder to stay happy where you are
There are all these ways
To look through the fence into your neighbor's yard
Why even risk it, it's safer to stay distant
When it's so hard now
To just be content,
Because there's always something else
Now I'm proposing my own toast
Proposing my own joke for those married men
Maybe I'm miserable, I'd rather run for mayor
In Splitsville than suffer your jokes again