Sobesville

by You Okay?

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Devin Williams
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Devin Williams Killer EP. Every single track is A+ Favorite track: Beaches.
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01:31
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02:32
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02:37
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Recorded/Produced/Mixed/Mastered by Evan Blaine
at World Championship Studios.

"Sometimes you have to get drunk with your friends in a raft before you make a hit record."

credits

released July 4, 2013

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You Okay? Cape Canaveral, Florida

Sam Kuhns
Max Magnon
Mac Patterson

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Track Name: Stabs
I'm not real, I'm just a character in other people's lives;
an archetype. Never breaking formula or structure
until the day I die.

And you're not real, you're just a person that
I built up in my head of what's left unsaid.
And you can't deviate from your script until you're dead.

So please help me find out who I am--
these stabs in the dark are only hitting people I love.

Try not to lose any of yourself--
those little fuckers will get you if you let them.

Don't hesitate to end it all--
if it doesn't feel right it never was or will be
anything but a regret.
Track Name: Beaches
Feet planted firm, shit talked, jokes made.
There was something in our tone of voice,
something in our eyes.
Tourist trap, fuck that.
There was nothing to do, but still we made our way.

There's something out there swimming in the water,
here's to hoping it's a shark to finish those bastards off.
We were never the types for showing off.
There's something out there swimming in the water,
here's to hoping it's a shark to finish those fuckers off.
We were never the types for growing up

Dragged our bodies down the street, curses shouted to the wind.
The best of swears and cerebral tears
shared amongst the best of friends.
Tourist trap, fuck that.
There was nothing to do.
But bang our heads into the ground until they fucking bleed.

Here's to the beach we never go to.
Here's to hating the fucks that do.
Here's to the socially binding problems
that bound together me and you.
Here's to the nights we stayed up talking.
Here's to all the crazy shit we saw.
Here's to Caroline, Madison, Ridgewood, and Young,
and here's to fuck them all.
Track Name: Disappointment
I can sense your chest bubbling up with disgust.
Something I've said or done has caused another one
of those problems between us.
I assure you not to worry, no I'm OK, seriously,
what's it to you if I'm emotionally distraught?
I don't blame you, I just guess the definition of closeness
is different from what I thought.

Your disinterest and resentment
are thinly veiled and unmistakable;
your disappointment's plastered on your face
like a badge of fucking honor.
Your words are passive aggressively soul-crushing.
I get it, I'm stupid, I fucked up somehow;

what more do you want from me?

I can sense your chest bubbling up with disgust.
Something I've said or done has caused another one
of those problems between us.
You're foaming at the mouth to tear me apart,
but you can't seem to find good reason to,
c'mon, it was always your favorite sport.
I'll be the scapegoat, I'll play the bad guy, take the blame,
I'll be the means to your fucking end,
but at the end of the day, don't call yourself my friend.

All hail the king of disappointment,
self-professed prince of apathy, yeah.
All hail the king of disappointment,
all hail the king of nothing.

I'm through with the games you're playing,
if there's something to say, just say it.
Track Name: Red Right 88
My head's been fucked for days
and my voice has been gone for weeks.
But I'll stay shut the fuck up
because it's so cliche to speak.

And I don't know shit about you,
and you don't know shit about me.

And it never gets better,
no it it never gets better,
no it doesn't get better.

We can't break these habit-forming mistakes;
we make them again and again.
As if we'd ever want to.

Waking up never felt so wrong
as when breathing was all I could do.
You tried to crawl inside my thoughts,
but all you found there was "fuck you"'s.

And you don't know shit about me,
and I don't know shit about you.

We can't break these habit-forming mistakes;
we make them again and again.
As if we'd ever want to.
Spend our days in each other's way,
tripping over our own feet
so we'll always have an excuse.

And I never felt quite as good
as when everything went bad.
And I never felt quite as free
as when I (we) lost everything I (we) had.
They say your whole life's building up
a sense of reasonable doubt,
but if that's what we're building toward,
then count me out.

Count me the fuck out.
Track Name: Spicertown Rentals
Nights like tonight make me never wanna go back to Florida
'Cause I know how what that heat's gonna do to my head
And as we walk through the cold back toward your house
I shoot a prayer up off to whoever that I'll never again have to
Wake up in my own bed

Because something about getting drunk with a stranger
In the city that I was born
Is so much more romantic than getting
Drunk at home all alone
And my numb feet are but a small fee
For a slate wiped totally clean
And as you're taking a piss off the balcony
I'm assuming you know what I mean

'Cause the humidity accentuates and alienates,
And sometimes I feel like it's more than I can take.

Nights like tonight make me never wanna go back to Florida
'Cause I know what that heat's gonna do to my head
Nights like tonight make me never wanna go back to Florida
'Cause between here and there, I'm better off fucking dead

Give me the comfort of no one knowing my name
Give me the sanctity of anonymity
Let me leave my past transgressions on the coast
The sunshine state can keep all my mistakes
All the bullshit dreams and the time I wasted
And every embarrassing line I wish I never wrote

Just bury me face down in the snow
Far away from everyone I've ever known
I won't bother coming back
I'd rather fucking freeze to death
Than spend one more day in my day to day
Everything's still fucked up, and it's not okay

Nights like tonight make me never wanna go back to Florida
'Cause I know how that heat's gonna make me feel
And as I'm passing out on your living room couch
I say a prayer to heaven, or more likely just upstairs
That the past doesn't have to be real.
Track Name: I Don't Live My Life On Scales
Your smell still haunts my room,
it fills my nose when I least expect.
And you're all dressed up and fine,
and I'm a nervous fucking wreck.
And it's not even jealousy;
I just miss you and me.
I don't want you to be mine,
I want everything to be ours.

And you'll find someone with the common interests
you first found so interesting about me.
And there's nothing I can fucking do about it.

Every day I wake up sad
that I didn't die in my sleep,
and every bed's the loneliest place in the world
with anybody but you next to me.
I destroyed every single reminder of you,
I punched the wall (roof) until I bled.
But I couldn't stop thinking,
so I drank until I slept.

And "I Miss You" never sounded as good
as it did in your bedroom in 2010;
and I'd kill to feel that hard for something again.

I don't know anything about anything anymore.
Who's keeping score?
It's hard to count when you're seeing double.
Nothing's ever gonna be the same
in this fucked up continuity,
so why, oh why would I keep going?

Should I keep going?

Why'd I have to go and fuck it up?
I had it all and still it wasn't enough.
Now I'm left here to sit and rot
and it's exactly what I deserve.
I've been reading through old notebooks every day,
I fucking hate the author for not being able to see.
I wish I could go back in time
and beat that stupid fucking kid to death.

I don't know anything anymore.