Jeremy Fisher
180426271.gif

Gotta be a better way, somewhere out there,
Gotta be something else,
Grandpa would stare out into thin air just trying to figure it out,
The porch light flickers, moths and mosquitos,
Screen door speaks to the breeze
Me and my sister up talking to Jesus,
Hands folded down on our knees,

Dear Papa,
What would we do
Living upon that moon
Shoot at the stars
Build motels and bars
And try to find someone to screw,
Try to feel somewhere to muse

White noise and rabbit ears,
Tuned into all your fears,
Every night it's the same,
Daddy sits in his chair,
Mama wears rubber gloves,
She got a dishpan drain,
Grandpa smokes a cigarette it's just for him not for kids,
Watch from the windowsill,
As smoke dances upward a ghost in the darkness white out perfectly still

Dear Papa,
What would we do
Living upon that moon
Shoot at the stars
Build motels and bars
And try to find someone to screw,
Try to feel somewhere to muse

Out in the shed after midnights in bed,
The real hard work begins,
Grandpa tinkers with a rocket he built,
From a '54 rambler with fins,
He says you and your sister can escape this misery c'mon child climb on in

Dear Papa,
What would we do
Living upon that moon
Shoot at the stars
Build motels and bars
And try to find someone to screw,
Try to feel somewhere to muse


Mirror lyrics:

Try to feel somewhere to muse
And try to find someone to screw,
Build motels and bars
Shoot at the stars
Living upon that moon
What would we do
Dear Papa,

He says you and your sister can escape this misery c'mon child climb on in
From a '54 rambler with fins,
Grandpa tinkers with a rocket he built,
The real hard work begins,
Out in the shed after midnights in bed,

Try to feel somewhere to muse
And try to find someone to screw,
Build motels and bars
Shoot at the stars
Living upon that moon
What would we do
Dear Papa,

As smoke dances upward a ghost in the darkness white out perfectly still
Watch from the windowsill,
Grandpa smokes a cigarette it's just for him not for kids,
She got a dishpan drain,
Mama wears rubber gloves,
Daddy sits in his chair,
Every night it's the same,
Tuned into all your fears,
White noise and rabbit ears,

Try to feel somewhere to muse
And try to find someone to screw,
Build motels and bars
Shoot at the stars
Living upon that moon
What would we do
Dear Papa,

Hands folded down on our knees,
Me and my sister up talking to Jesus,
Screen door speaks to the breeze
The porch light flickers, moths and mosquitos,
Grandpa would stare out into thin air just trying to figure it out,
Gotta be something else,
Gotta be a better way, somewhere out there,


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