Pretty Okay​!​!

by Pennsylvania Trash Ghosts

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1.
01:16
2.
04:12
3.

about

Debut EP for folk-punk trio Pennsylvania Trash Ghosts

Avery Budnick - Guitar, bass, banjo, Vocals
Crow Sheehan - Vocals, Guitar
Trevor Reitano - Vocals, various wind instruments

credits

released October 16, 2016

Mixed and mastered at Bonehead Studios in Cromwell, Connecticut.
All songs (except where noted) written by Pennsylvania Trash Ghosts.

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Track Name: Den
Sick and fucking tired of watchin you fall apart
how can you put that needle in your arm
when you know the effects that it has
on your family friends and self

hows it feel upon that shelf,
bathing in your shame and regret
unlid your eyes and plea
what the fuck is wrong with me

(chorus)
what i'd like to see is you put it back together
and make amends, get clean and re-enter my life
as a father and a friend

how do you call youself a parent
when you never see your kids
too busy walking the streets alone
or using in that DEN you call a home

you were my hero, to one i looked up to
youve gone and thrown that out
i breakk down as much as you shoot up
so put that needle down

(chorus)
Track Name: 984 Miles
Some people say they build up walls to see who cares to tear them down
I can’t relate I‘m more the type to throw the bricks at you, then ask for them back so I can build it again

I’ve always gone through life just hoping that you felt the same way
And gave wide berth not out of courtesy but just to avoid the side effects of a brick to the face

Know I was listening when you cried on my shoulder
I know you wanted me to tell you that things would get better
But how could I know that? Sometimes they get worse

I stared at the clock it kept ticking on past
The little moment where I hadn't fucked things up yet
I tried my best to hold it in place

Because I
Would walk 1000 miles
To avoid awkward eye contact
Or feeling kind of stupid
Even just for one second

And I
Would shrug 1000 times
But not one more or less
Because numbers aren’t poetic
Unless they’re big and round

And so you'd say say the ones you love were always bound to let you down
I looked away and wished that I could promise I wouldn't, and yet in that moment I already had
I just got all caught up in searching for the right words to say
And by the time I had prepared a statement that you wouldn't take the wrong way
You were gone, and wouldn't take my calls

I give cold shoulders to keep the room from melting
And when that fails I hold my breath to keep myself from drowning
Don't tie yourself to me, I never learned how to swim

There's a fine line between supportive and invasive
And I'm so terrified to come within a mile of it
I'd rather say nothing, I'd rather be nothing

Because I
Would walk 1000 miles
To avoid awkward eye contact
Or feeling kind of stupid
Even just for one second

And I
Would shrug 1000 times
But not one more or less
Because numbers aren’t poetic
Unless they’re big and round

and i
would write 1000 lines
of uninspired poetry
over a cliche melody
its better than sincerity
Track Name: Song For a Supermarket Parking Lot (Pat the Bunny Cover)
On Mondays, I do the laundry at a twenty four hour place next to the Dollar Tree. I know that I could walk, but god I love to drive. I thought about calling and asking forgiveness, but hell, I'm afraid of the dogs that I live with. I guess you take it one thing at a time. I thought about Jesse on Tuesday morning; last I heard, he was still doped up in Portland. I could call and ask, but hell, I know he'd lie. Like my neighbor, he's got business. If you don't know about it, better keep your distance. Ain't no one on this street ever called a cop in their life. On Wednesday, ran into Connor, drinking like he was already a goner. He said he'd like to change if he could grow a spine. I said: "When you talk like that, you make me real nervous. No, don't be inviting me to your funeral service. Throw down your fucking chips, let's play for keeps this time." Like on Thursday when you called and woke me up. I heard you started smoking crack again and caught up: catching cases robbing houses, just to stay alive. So I hung up, and called Vanessa, and I told them that I left the rent on the dresser. It wasn't even half of three weeks late this time. On Fridays, I do the laundry at the twenty four hour place next to the Dollar Tree, past the neighbors reaching heaven with their trucks so high. I thought about calling and asking forgiveness, but lately I don't even know what that word is. I've got police on my six, because they think it's a crime.