After I Don't Give a Damn by Chairlift
I don't give
a damn
anymore.
You don't have to pre tend to get me
or go out of your way, protect me.
I may go out
of my way to look around
to see just what you
got up to.
O'r my shoulder the smoke stacks,
while I smile and look back
just to see where
you hit the ground.
I drove toward
the sun
and when my wings were done
the shells stopped falling
out of your wings.
Full stall and you stalled too,
your brain blacked out,
my face blue,
we tumbled back down toward the trees.
I'm pretty sure I did see
a man fishing a gully,
thirteen birds and a car
parked ungracefully.
Before I knew it,
Be fore I blew it,
I pulled back
and leapt into screw.
I don't
give a damn
anymore.
You don't have
to get me
or try to
protect me.
I don't give a damn anymore.
Your hoops get smaller.
The clouds get taller.
Rolling scissor with
a good push.
The doors go wub wub
without a jamb to push.
Against clean air
we will be there
Leather and all,
elbows set fast,
another shot flies.
Down range we all look the same.
The well mean mean things,
the bottoms of shots break down,
and it means
next to nothing at all.
Five bullets and sundown,
we got together to hound
what matters when
we all play board.
The weed rolled cross street,
I thought I heard your heart beat.
I came here to settle a score.
The noose is waiting.
I'm tired of braying.
Please don't make this a chore.
I've traveled, I've sated.
I've shot down, I've dated.
Realize I'm done being torn.
I've ducked down, I've stood up,
I've rinsed out, I've been tough,
draw and I'll give you the tour.
It's brief.
It's meek.
Not much to speak.
Ghost and perhaps still sore.
The shot goes down.
It is easy to rebound,
I think that I enjoy you more.
Cigarettes get put out.
People as well.
Light all of the engines up.
I'll meet you up there
after tucked landing gear.
Someone to be gunning for.
I been locked up.
I been locked out.
I been broken in.
I been showed down.
I been chased and hard up.
Hard up and burned out, back for more.
The tumbleweed rolls
while the tail vanes glow,
the shot glass tips side
fallen to the floor.
I have been drifting
from Staten Island to Brooklyn.
Queens means nothing,
still sore.
My standards are higher.
I can't get by her.
Why can't I show you the door?
You need not respect me
or try to protect the
rules of the game.
In a glass shop, you know, I'm a boar.
You don't have
to get me,
or try to
protect me,
I don't give
a damn
anymore.
