Music Video

Upcoming Concerts for Counterpunch

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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Counterpunch
Counterpunch
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Eric William Hausser
Eric William Hausser
Songwriter
John Jared Rohde
John Jared Rohde
Songwriter
Brian Phee
Brian Phee
Songwriter
James Jonathan Margle
James Jonathan Margle
Songwriter

Lyrics

I see the edge and I'm getting closer The stitches aren't holding the seams I'm hitting bottom but sinking further White picket death machines I'm done feeling sorry Headed south on a broken wing This shoulder's getting colder Broken bottles and broken dreams Can't wake up from this nightmare This guilt is killing me What's to become of us? What's to become of me? Light a match and walk away. There's nothing left here so why stay? This place is dead to me Life lived how could we stop it Love lost on empty pockets Pointing fingers in the wrong way Captivated by the thought of sinking in Eyes hung from hollow sockets Bloodshot and out of solace Keep calm and carry on Pretend there's nothing wrong Let's keep this clandestine I know just what we need Pack up these memories with a full frontal lobotomy It's not what you knew it's what you can prove I walk these streets with the diseased The ghosts of who we are; the ones we'll never be I wear these scars like antiseptic for my heart These bruises will lose color They're not who you are Can't wake up from this nightmare This guilt is killing me What's to become of us? What's to become of me? Light a match and walk away There's nothing left here so why stay? This place is dead to me I walk these streets with the diseased The ghosts of who we are; the ones we'll never be I wear these scars like antiseptic for my heart These bruises will lose color They're not who you are We felt the bottom drop as we stood and watched View from a window looking straight across Static silence drowning out the noise This is the eulogy We had a little hope 'till it was lost Life lived, love lost on a boulevard Yes this is the eulogy of your friends and family I walk these streets with the diseased The ghosts of who we are; the ones we'll never be I wear these scars like antiseptic for my heart These bruises will lose color They're not who you are
Writer(s): James Margle, Brian Phee, Eric Hausser, John Rohde Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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