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Listen to High Noon (Deluxe) by Arkells
ALBUMHigh Noon (Deluxe)Arkells
Listen to Arkells Essentials featuring Arkells
PLAYLISTArkells EssentialsApple Music Alternative

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Arkells
Arkells
Musician
Max Kerman
Max Kerman
Vocals
Mike DeAngelis
Mike DeAngelis
Guitar
Anthony Carone
Anthony Carone
Keyboards
Nick Dika
Nick Dika
Bass Guitar
Tim Oxford
Tim Oxford
Drums
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Michael DeAngelis
Michael DeAngelis
Composer
Nicholas Dika
Nicholas Dika
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Eric Ratz
Eric Ratz
Producer
Kenny Luong
Kenny Luong
Engineer
Hiren Mistry
Hiren Mistry
Assistant Engineer
Cameron Lister
Cameron Lister
Engineer
Tony Hoffer
Tony Hoffer
Additional Producer

Lyrics

Hey! Hundreds of stories, before I showed up And they tell them to me, and pull photos up And there, I'm connected, like a pair of handcuffs No one seemed affected, that everyone is fucked But there was a softness, a kind of understanding (understanding) Those 2 a.m. decisions, always shaky landings And no one ever knew, what could be demanded (be demanded) Maybe it's the cards The cards that she was handed You call me up from a pay phone I said, "Hang tight, I can drive you home" I pulled on up and with a Southern accent I offered you my Dad's leather jacket (yes) I met her at a party, she'd come straight from work Complained that the regulars were all a bunch of jerks She always looked tired, she dazzled as a drunk She even pulled off the stupid hair cut She said, "I don't need a sponsor, or the best lover Just a man that sees me as some fixer-upper The last few years, man, I've been running for cover (running) Trying to sleep, so I can visit my mother" You call me up from a pay phone I said, "Hang tight, I can drive you home" I pulled on up and with a Southern accent I offered you my Dad's leather jacket When times were tough, in the worst years We never knew how to interfere And now you're back, and just unpacking Those bruised-up takers, you keep attracting In September, when he goes off Like some god-damn alarm clock And he hits her, like a third shot Conversations, she just stares off There's no longer a voice calling When she goes out Saying, "I'll be up waiting for you" You call me up from a pay phone I said, "Hang tight, I can drive you home" I pulled on up and with a Southern accent I offered you my Dad's leather jacket When times were tough, in the worst years We never knew how to interfere And now you're back, and just unpacking Those bruised-up takers, you keep attracting You call me up from a pay phone (ooh-ooh, ooh, ooh) You call me up from a pay phone (ooh-ooh, ooh, ooh) You call me up from a pay phone (ooh-ooh, ooh, ooh) You call me up from a pay phone And I said, "Who the fuck uses a pay phone?"
Writer(s): Max Kerman, Rick Bedrosian, Tim Oxford, Nick Dika Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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