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I Yell Through the Boxfan

from Southern Hand, Northern Light by Sunday Pills

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lyrics

Chain-driven, no animation
Then the day is through
Wheels spinning, spitting and missing
It's all I've learned to do

So I yell through the boxfan
And it makes a wicked sound
And I'm still spitting and I'm still missing
But it don't get me down

Cause I yell through the boxfan
And it makes a wicked sound

Deadweight, drifting and dreaming
Driving and weaving it home
Stars pouring through my windshield
Like backwards bulletholes

Headspace, a river of evil
Running double-time
Soaking through the drywall
Of my mind

So I yell through the boxfan
And it makes a wicked sound
And I'm still dreaming and I'm still weaving
But it don't get me down

Cause I yell through the boxfan
And it makes a wicked sound

This could all be so simple
The scarecrow in the rain
The halo on the tomahawk
Spending miracles in vain

But I yell through the boxfan
And it makes a wicked sound
And cuts right through my bones
And I get sucked up in the clouds

credits

from Southern Hand, Northern Light, released November 7, 2014

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Sunday Pills Cleveland Heights, Ohio

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