Music Video

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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Arkells
Arkells
Musician
Max Kerman
Max Kerman
Vocals
Mike DeAngelis
Mike DeAngelis
Guitar
Anthony Carone
Anthony Carone
Keyboards
Nick Dika
Nick Dika
Bass Guitar
Tim Oxford
Tim Oxford
Drums
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Max Kerman
Max Kerman
Composer
Mike DeAngelis
Mike DeAngelis
Composer
Nick Dika
Nick Dika
Composer
Tim Oxford
Tim Oxford
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Eric Ratz
Eric Ratz
Producer
Kenny Luong
Kenny Luong
Engineer
Hiren Mistry
Hiren Mistry
Assistant Engineer
Cameron Lister
Cameron Lister
Engineer
Tony Hoffer
Tony Hoffer
Additional Producer

Lyrics

Hey
Hundreds of stories, before I showed up
And they tell them to me, and pull photos up
And there I'm connected, like a pair of handcuffs
No one seemed affected, that everyone is fucked
But, there was a softness, a kind of understanding
Those two A.M. decisions, always shaky landings
And no one ever knew, what could be demanded
Maybe it's the cards, the cards that she was handed
You call me up from a pay phone
I said, hang tight, I can drive ya home
I pulled on up and with a southern accent
I offered you my dad's leather jacket, yeah
I met her at a party, she'd come straight from work
Complained that the regulars were all a bunch of jerks
She always looked tired, she dazzled as a drunk
She even pulled off the stupid haircut
She said I don't need a sponsor, or the best lover
Just a man that sees me as some fixer-upper
The last few years, man, I've been running for cover
Trying to sleep so I can visit my mother
You call me up from a pay phone
I said, hang tight, I can drive ya home
I pulled on up and with a southern accent
I offered you my dad's leather jacket
When times were tough, in the worst years
We never knew how to interfere
And now you're back, and just unpackin'
Those bruised up takers, you keep attractin'
In September, when he goes off
Like some god damn, alarm clock
And he hits her, like a third shot
Conversations, she just stares off
There's no longer a voice calling when she goes out
Saying, I'll be up waiting for you
You call me up from a pay phone
I said, hang tight, I can drive ya home
I pulled on up and with a southern accent
I offered you my dad's leather jacket
When times were tough, in the worst years
We never knew how to interfere
And now you're back, and just unpacking
Those bruised up takers, you keep attracting
You call me up from a pay phone
(Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh)
You call me up from a pay phone
(Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh)
You call me up from a pay phone
(Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh)
You call me up from a pay phone
And I said, who the fuck uses a pay phone?
Written by: Max Kerman, Mike DeAngelis, Nick Dika, Tim Oxford
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