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lyrics

It's warm in December, it's cold in July, I've got mud in my eye
Cos you weren't there to warn me
Of the oncoming onslaught of awkward exchanges
I'm deranged, and I'm changing my perspective to try and see
What's beyond me
A chance to be free
You've got nothing on me
And I'm pickled in whiskey and truth serum.

And I'll stomp on the brakes, cos they're the only thing that works
And I feel like a jerk for being so understanding
And I don't understand much 'til the fourth time around
That's the real charm, I've found
Does it belong on your bracelet?

And I'm sitting here drinking and thinking so fast that my brain is like a strobe light moving backwards
I was getting my hopes up
Then I woke up and figured out just what I already knew
And I'm thinking of you almost every damn second
And all I can say is when I'm lost, I just keep going straight.

credits

from Bad Choice Brigade, released July 8, 2005

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The Fig Mints (of Your Imagination) Utica, New York

The Fig Mints is some guy named Bobby Rogan. When not playing songs written by someone else, he prefers to write his own for what it’s worth, and has recorded nine albums and two EPs of (mostly) original material inspired by youthful indiscretion; severe anxiety attacks; heavy drinking; and of course, girls. Sprinkle a little self-loathing in there, and you get what you hear. ... more

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