Hey, Wanna Rob a Bank?

from by The Wanderer's Drift

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lyrics

I've been waiting on the man
to be singled out.
I read it in the sand
beneath a blue brick built beach house.
We've got these silly little plans all figured out.
If we had a dime for a dozen,
we'd be richer than what we are now.

We sat on it for days,
hoping one of us would cave.
Next time we met with anxious regrets
ending in a nod and a shake.
So, we start gathering the parts,
and visualize the stage.
At a quarter to 3:00, these dreams will be real,
and we'll take this whole damn place.

In with a penny out with a million.
Game faces on, it's time to be brilliant.
Finger on the trigger, not sure if I'll use it.
Please god, no one make a move or I'll lose it.
Heartbeat in my neck like a gun in my head.
I keep reminding myself I'm not dead, yet.
Mr. 2 and Mr. 3 make the final drop, now.
Sirens start approaching and our driver blows town.

Pierced and unaware,
caught between a stare
down the barrel of my useless gun.
Heaven's never after
for the tear-stained, lowly bastard
begging for life that’s come undone.
In a panic, I reach out.
My mind exploding, I yell out.
This world will see what we have done.
Pain closes in.
Vision blurred with sin.
Hurry, boys!
You better RUN!
Run for your life, I said run.
Run for your life, I said run.

So now, I'm waiting for the man
to be singled out.
This iron cell can
wear a man's spirit down.
It’s been six years to the day.
Things could've gone a better way.
But don't you fret, ‘cause I've got one more spade to play.

Steel loosens from my hands
and I remember being a man.
This long lonely walk,
through a concrete land.
And at the end of the day,
my pretty little driver whisks me away.
Backseat, bags unpacked,
enough cash for any rainy day.

credits

from Rowdy, released August 30, 2014

tags

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about

The Wanderer's Drift Abbeville, Louisiana

There's two of us. We organize sounds and display them as the backdrop to (we've been told) solitary and imaginative experience(s). We setup these 'sound collection sticks' and the box of turn-y things, the sticks are connected to, seem to mimic us somehow. The tribes outside told us to 'upload' them to the sky or clouds or webs or whatever. So here it goes....
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