Rust Under the Lights
Verse 1 The clock upon the wall is staring down
Red numbers eating minutes
counting down. Boots are pinching tight against the toe
Dust is in the lungs and moving slow. Boss is barking orders from the stand
Saying we are lucky in the land. Pointing at the ghosts of who was fired
While I am standing here and getting tired. Knuckles split from carrying the load
Ready to explode upon the road.
Verse 2 Break room smelling like the burnt caffeine
Plastic forks are dirty and unclean. Posters on the block are smiling bright
Helmets covering the lack of light. Tracking every minute in the stall
Supervisors walking down the hall. Laughing at the pension like a lie
Loud enough to cover up the sigh.
Pre-Chorus Growling in the chest just like a dog
Moving through the heavy mental fog. Swallowing the orders till it hurts
Stains upon the collar of the shirts.
Chorus We are rust beneath the hanging light
Flaking orange in the middle of the night. They polish up the surface till it shines
Ignoring what is waiting in the lines. Drag the amps into the loading bay
Plug it in and blow the world away. Scream until the plaster starts to break
Showing them the pressure that we make.
Verse 3 First chord hits the shell and bounces back
Reverb running on the pallet stack. Vests are coming off and eyes are wide
Nowhere for the management to hide. Boss is at the window looking pale
Voice is lost beneath the heavy gale. Lyrics spitting invoices and pain
Nailing every smile to the drain.
Pre-Chorus Not a revolution, just a crack
Giving all the heavy anger back. Between the punch out and the morning sun
We taste the battle that we haven’t won.
Chorus We are rust beneath the hanging light
Flaking orange in the middle of the night. They polish up the surface till it shines
Ignoring what is waiting in the lines. Drag the amps into the loading bay
Plug it in and blow the world away. Scream until the plaster starts to break
Showing them the pressure that we make.
Bridge One day back will fold and knees will go
Lungs are scarred and moving very slow. Maybe I will hobble in the aisle
Wearing nothing but a tired smile. But a kid will find the tape we made
Listen to the anger in the shade. Realize the rage was not a mistake
But the only freedom we could take.
Outro Horn is wailing, cut the power line
Lights go back to dead and white design. But the rust has learned a way to speak
Heavy in the middle of the week.