Trash King from Move by Widespread Haze

Nobody spoke about the comatose
From then on mother hid the pills up on a higher shelf
Nobody speaks about the missing weeks
Memories abandoned in search of a higher self
Nobody knows about your purple bones
They compliment your sunglasses and buy you a drink
Nobody’s home they just leave you alone
Say goodbye we love you and we’ll probably see you next week, well

Hey hey, there’s a better way
But ain’t nobody gonna tell you till it’s much too late
Woah oh, you gotta go
There ain’t no more room for you here
Till you can look into the mirror your reflection’s unclear

Nobody cries at their last sunrise
They might appreciate the colors if they can spare the time
Nobody fights, they just stay inside
Hoping the clean white coats come take them away in time
Everyone’s wondering when the war will begin
If it’s begun already, if we lose or we win
And everyone’s locking their windows at night
Thinking that’s where the enemy is
Catch a glimpse of their reflection, gaze into the abyss

Hey hey, best be on our way
Got no patience for the people who cannot wait
Woah oh, nobody knows
Until they look up and face the truth
That all these people in the mirror are reflections of you

Trash king
Sittin’ in his coffin
Thinkin’ that he really ought to
shine his shoes more often
no dreams
wants or ambitions
he is happy right where he is
says his favorite kind of friend’s the kind that doesn’t exist

nobody likes what they look like
hide behind a smile and a smoke and a bottle of wine
nobody’s fine when they say they’re fine
we’re all burning from both ends, running the clock out of time
everyone’s counting up their wrongs and their rights
making adjustments that they think may benefit the bottom line
debt and pity, money and pride
we’re all closer than we like to admit
laughing at the hearse as we’re worshipping the crucifix, well

hey hey, there’s a better way
but ain’t nobody gonna tell ya till it’s much too late
woah oh, you gotta go
there ain’t no more room for you here
till you can look into the mirror, yeah you best steer clear

of the Trash King
oo
think’s he really ought to clean
the wad of lint from out his pockets
oo, oo
who’s gonna clean up your mess
when the folks that don’t exist the folks that you like best

• Rock
• blues
• garage rock
• jazz
• psychedelic rock
• Roseburg