My Vintage Mind

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Underground 'til Sundown

4:23

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These Midwest skies are killing me
As gray as time stuck on repeat
There's a bitter cold connection between winter and depression
And if we ever see the sun again, let's ask how the light has been

These dead brittle trees remind me that
Time spent paused is the life you'll lack
And I've just got no connection to this futile obsession
Of artificial light streaming from the compass to our demise

Sometimes I hear the reaper calling me
I wonder what he drinks
Lately, I feel like him; so out of reach
A specter on the breeze

I feel so far away
These seedless apples are poisoning
You can leave me behind
I'll wipe the dust from My Vintage Mind

Sometimes I hear the reaper calling me
I wonder what he drinks
Lately I feel like him; so out of reach
A specter on the breeze

We live in a post-genuine, fad-driven wasteland of
Department store vinyl and pretentious activists
And I'm still wondering how to deal with the hypocrisy
Are we really all omniscient
Am I really any different

We live in a post-genuine, click-bait-driven wasteland of
cyberspace warfare and career politics
And I'm still wondering how to deal with the hilarity
Of this pivotal moment
Can we take on the corruption or is freedom out of focus
Can we have a conversation

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