Brian Reeder

Professional Subscriber to Songbay
Brian Reeder

You had me at hello but go on
No one likes to sing alone
There something in the air my friend
I'll hold it in my lungs til' I turn blue
Let's stay up drink and be honest
I don't have the guts to tell you
What you don't have the heart to me
Let's start there and see where it goes

It's the feeling of biting consonance of curse words off into the wind
Or smoking cigarettes for the memories they leave on your fingertips
It might bring back the spirit of a dead love
And if you had the chance
You'd breath it into a jar and trap it, trap it in a skin

Oh I re-read the lyrics you sent to me all too often
In different tones pushing the words barely past my teeth
Pick at the knots in my stomach with a bottle of cheap wine
If I said I didn't care, believe me, it was a drunken lie

More Than Skin


Latest Uploads

You had me at hello but go on
No one likes to sing alone
There something in the air my friend
I'll hold it in my lungs til' I turn blue
Let's stay up drink and be honest
I don't have the guts to tell you
What you don't have the heart to me
Let's start there and see where it goes

It's the feeling of biting consonance of curse words off into the wind
Or smoking cigarettes for the memories they leave on your fingertips
It might bring back the spirit of a dead love
And if you had the chance
You'd breath it into a jar and trap it, trap it in a skin

Oh I re-read the lyrics you sent to me all too often
In different tones pushing the words barely past my teeth
Pick at the knots in my stomach with a bottle of cheap wine
If I said I didn't care, believe me, it was a drunken lie

More Than Skin

My Uploads

You had me at hello but go on
No one likes to sing alone
There something in the air my friend
I'll hold it in my lungs til' I turn blue
Let's stay up drink and be honest
I don't have the guts to tell you
What you don't have the heart to me
Let's start there and see where it goes

It's the feeling of biting consonance of curse words off into the wind
Or smoking cigarettes for the memories they leave on your fingertips
It might bring back the spirit of a dead love
And if you had the chance
You'd breath it into a jar and trap it, trap it in a skin

Oh I re-read the lyrics you sent to me all too often
In different tones pushing the words barely past my teeth
Pick at the knots in my stomach with a bottle of cheap wine
If I said I didn't care, believe me, it was a drunken lie

More Than Skin


About Me

Bio

Writes strong, imaginative lyrics, typically with alternative/punk/rock sound in mind.

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