A knockoff necktie
The way he wore it made it look more like a tourniquet
I looked deep in his eyes
I saw Lynn, Massachusetts
She hung a sleeveless dress up on a sleeved up lifestyle
Hey, girl, you gotta cover that
She saw him gushing blood from wide open wounds
And she decided that she loves him
They put the screws into Charlemagne
He had a detox dream, he saw Christ in all his glory
And Charlemagne didn't feel any pain
But he's bleeding from the holes in his story
He said, "Hey my name is Corey
And I'm really into hardcore
People call me Hard Corey"
Don't you hate these clever people
And all these clever people parties
In the park drinking Dark Bacardi
Thinking things are funny when they really ain't that funny
The kids on the corner they keep getting stung
The color of our teeth matches the color of our tongues
In the Back Bay Fens getting gentle
Up against the fence with some guy that looks like Mickey Mantle
Dirty minds keep coming through the mud
The color of their eyes matches the color of our blood
He had a painters cap, it said "Panama Jack"
It had the flaps on the back that kept the sun off his neck
And he woke up deep in Hostile, Massachusetts
Reaching out, trying to touch the special effects
He had no shoes and no pants
And they dressed him in a shirt with a collar
And they called him Porky Pig
The two of you went up to his room
But later on you wouldn't admit you did
Seeing lousy movies but only for the A/C
Skimpy little outfits and bad guys acting crazy
And that's how I know when you're lying
It looks just like overacting
Kids on the corner are cracking and caving in
Turning over and turning other kids in
I never want to make you feel uncomfortable
I hope I never did
They met as kids he was angry and angsty
Yeah, and she was a damned good dancer
I'll be damned if they didn't disappear
Wandered out of mass one day
And faded into the fog and love, and faithless fear
Charlemagne in sweatpants and you and me in Hostile, Massachusetts
The way he wore it made it look more like a tourniquet
I looked deep in his eyes
I saw Lynn, Massachusetts
She hung a sleeveless dress up on a sleeved up lifestyle
Hey, girl, you gotta cover that
She saw him gushing blood from wide open wounds
And she decided that she loves him
They put the screws into Charlemagne
He had a detox dream, he saw Christ in all his glory
And Charlemagne didn't feel any pain
But he's bleeding from the holes in his story
He said, "Hey my name is Corey
And I'm really into hardcore
People call me Hard Corey"
Don't you hate these clever people
And all these clever people parties
In the park drinking Dark Bacardi
Thinking things are funny when they really ain't that funny
The kids on the corner they keep getting stung
The color of our teeth matches the color of our tongues
In the Back Bay Fens getting gentle
Up against the fence with some guy that looks like Mickey Mantle
Dirty minds keep coming through the mud
The color of their eyes matches the color of our blood
He had a painters cap, it said "Panama Jack"
It had the flaps on the back that kept the sun off his neck
And he woke up deep in Hostile, Massachusetts
Reaching out, trying to touch the special effects
He had no shoes and no pants
And they dressed him in a shirt with a collar
And they called him Porky Pig
The two of you went up to his room
But later on you wouldn't admit you did
Seeing lousy movies but only for the A/C
Skimpy little outfits and bad guys acting crazy
And that's how I know when you're lying
It looks just like overacting
Kids on the corner are cracking and caving in
Turning over and turning other kids in
I never want to make you feel uncomfortable
I hope I never did
They met as kids he was angry and angsty
Yeah, and she was a damned good dancer
I'll be damned if they didn't disappear
Wandered out of mass one day
And faded into the fog and love, and faithless fear
Charlemagne in sweatpants and you and me in Hostile, Massachusetts
Lyrics submitted by stellaluna1125
Hostile, Mass. Lyrics as written by Tad Jason Kubler Craig Finn
Lyrics © Reservoir Media Management, Inc.
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
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i love the things that craig finn does with repetition. the girl wandering out of mass (holly, i do believe), charlemagne (and his sweatpants!) and certain phrases "fog and love and faithless fear" and "she was a damned good dancer" (your little hoodrat friend).
after listening to all of this album, the hold steady are cemented in my mind as the best thing to come to music since the guitar.