album cover
run your pockets
17
On Tour
Punk
run your pockets was released on January 17, 2025 by Ernest Jenning Record Co as a part of the album crazy arms
album cover
Release DateJanuary 17, 2025
LabelErnest Jenning Record Co
LanguageEnglish
Melodicness
Acousticness
Valence
Danceability
Energy
BPM119

Music Video

Music Video

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Saoirse Lomes Oleander
Saoirse Lomes Oleander
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Saoirse Lomes Oleander
Saoirse Lomes Oleander
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Capt. Tripps Ballsington
Capt. Tripps Ballsington
Engineer
Carl Saff
Carl Saff
Mastering Engineer

Lyrics

Kitchen floor, the soft blue glow
All the hate an empty night can grow
Reflections in the rotted tile
Leave the back door open a little while
Let the stars in, screaming cars, you can forget what you are
Pull your hood in close and walk down to the mall
Sinking low, flying high
On this bus again with these soft red eyes
My backpack, plans and broken thoughts disorganized
No accomplice or expectations, the terror breathes beside me
Another little act of sabotage
Lights went out, the door was closed
You don't have to stay here but you can't go home
The electron field and cheap red wine
Can't let go, left behind
Drag my nails across my skin
Open up and let me in
A pill to slow this bad brain down
And an elbow to wrap your arm around
A boat out on the water, and your questions, and your black curls
The way the sun sinks in quiet resignation to our futures
I've been so used to coming out with nothing, fuck it
Roll the dice, open up that can of sardines
Darling, I've been hungry
I want my time to mean something
Porch tape warbles, slow, at 4am
Take out in an empty room
Do you want somebody to come home to?
Can you feel the read thread lasso, my little wild one, tighten 'round your throat?
All the daylight fading thin
If you wanna die, then let it and get living
But if you go running 'round tonight, give me a call
Lights went out, the door was closed
You don't have to stay here but you can't go home
All the contents of a backpack spilled out on the floor
Reconciliation with a dying world
Pickup parked up on the cliff, bare feet and spliff smoke out the window
Crack jokes and pour another round, just pray that isn't how it goes down
Just another mile to the truck stop, we'll find another ride
You either tear the fences down or fall apart inside
What you holding?
Run your pockets
Listen to that screaming in the middle of the night
Written by: Saoirse Lomes Oleander
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