Mistakes

by Punch The Sun

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about

"...absolute gem of a song" - Music Injection

lyrics

Sturdy shoulders holding up my head
Learning from my slips and stumbles
Worry's my aversion to the dread
You'll criticize my flips and fumbles

Well, I waited for perfection
But it never came
Somehow you expect me to
Observe it all the same

If you didn't tell me to
I don't know what I would do
I guess I'd keep on making these mistakes
If you didn't tell me so
I don't know where I would go
Well thank the good Lord you've got what it takes

Well I communicated through my fear
I like to move from intuition
But your regurgitations make it clear
You much prefer strict repetition

Well, I waited for perfection
But it never came
Somehow you expect me to
Observe it all the same

If you didn't tell me to
I don't know what I would do
I guess I'd keep on making these mistakes
If you didn't tell me so
I don't know where I would go
Well thank the good Lord you've got what it takes

Bless your soul, you're giving me
The down, the low, the one-two-three
I'm taking notes, I'm listening
With ears and eyes bared
Bless your heart, you're all advice
I had no clue you'd read the rights
If you're the expert, don't think twice
I'm here and you're there
I'm here and you're there

Well, I waited for perfection
But it never came
It's all a ruse, an overused
Idea of who's to blame

If you didn't tell me to
I don't know what I would do
I guess I'd keep on making these mistakes
If you didn't tell me so
I don't know where I would go
Well thank the good Lord you've got what it takes
Well, thank the good Lord you've got what it takes

credits

released June 29, 2018
Shannon Söderlund - vocals, bass guitar
Andrew Söderlund - electric guitar
Campbell Youngblood-Petersen - drums

Engineered, mixed, & produced by Andrew Söderlund
Mastered by Kim Rosen of Knack Mastering

Art by Jen Axman (Hiss)

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

Punch The Sun New York

PTS is equal parts noise and sensitivity, with introspective lyrics and irreverent shout choruses, revelling in dancy anti-man-splaining anthems, dreamy thunderstorm ballads, and yellin’ about guys named Steve.

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