Mad Max Was An Amateur

Raise up the anchors and seal up the cracks

Self hate and microphones, we'll re-trace the maps

A beat up guitar and an amp I got for free

I compile blurred still frames from the blacktop seas

Weary bodies can't rest

We keep on moving

With a ringing in my ears and dust in my blood

With an empty wallet and a hungry soul

I don't have much to show, but I've got some stories to tell

College towns and apartment floors

We repeat nocturnally and leave out the backdoor

We fight like brothers and party like thieves

Excess and irony, alcohol and trees

Weary bodies can't rest

We keep on moving

With a ringing in my ears and dust my blood

With an empty wallet and a hungry soul

I don't have much to show, but I've got some stories to tell