Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Sam MacPherson
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Sam MacPherson
Songwriter
Sam Westhoff
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Thom Lewis
Producer
Lyrics
Somebody's son's back there tied up to the tubes
The medics pushing the stuff that makes the junkies drool
13 minutes till Monmouth med
I'm skipping every light
In the shotgun somebody's sons girlfriend starts to close her eyes
Mary's snaps awake and gets it off her chest
Gave her 10 percent to the priest at st. James mass
And God she could really use that cash
She can't afford this the ride
The god she's paying might just let her boy back there die
You'd think all your troubles might've won you something
Sitting round at banquet of nothing
Torn apart two ways
Cursing church and state
Every single cut you got rockin a suture
Waiting to break, knowing the futures
Torn apart always
Cursing church and state
Her boy's a factory tech in the shadow of the airport
Found a woman who loves him like the girl he's been looking for
But Mary's got it all figured out
And she needs him to decide
It's her or the vice
He's gotta vote
But both keep him alive
You'd think all your troubles might've won you something
Sitting round at banquet of nothing
Torn apart two ways
Cursing church and state
Every single cut you got's rocking a suture
Waiting to break knowing the future
Is torn apart always
Cursing church and state
A sterile field
Fluorescent lights
The quiet rush to save a life
It's not your fault
you know that right?
It's not your fault
You close your eyes and
You'd think all your troubles might've won you something
sitting round at banquet of nothing
Torn apart two ways
Cursing church and state
Every single cut you got's rocking a suture
Waiting to break knowing the future
Is torn apart always
Cursing church and state
Written by: Sam MacPherson, Sam Westhoff