Half Past Late - Postcards

Playing songs from the basement
No musical education
We're blowing smoke with our words
Can't you see our motivation
Dead end job, shitty ass money
We use our cash for pot and bowling
Just regular kids and we're lonely
The same old places, they're getting boring

I like my friends
We're all the same
We play our music
To numb the pain

We'll send you postcards from paradise
When we get our shit together
Until then we'll be just fine
And we'll hope for better weather
Running away from all our problems
Hiding away inside
Dreaming of times sometime in the future
When everything feels alright

Then they said, we'll give you some freedom
It's time for you to live for a reason
Even though they've taught you to depend
It's best for you to keep out the deep end
If I had a voice, I'd say this wasn't a choice
And with no less remorse, that we could go change the course
But with these hands behind our backs
You got to watch your ass

I miss my friends
We all became
So fucking distant
Across the states

We'll send you postcards from paradise
When we get our shit together
Until then we'll be just fine
And we'll hope for better weather
Running away from all our problems
Hiding away inside
Dreaming of times sometime in the future
When everything feels alright

Did you work hard enough
Did you feel like you're not enough
Did you think you were not in love
With simplicity of the good times
When we got fucked up till the suns up
Getting lost without regret
Opened the postcard that you sent
It made me wish I never left

We'll send you postcards from paradise
When we get our shit together
Until then we'll be just fine
And we'll hope for better weather
Running away from all our problems
Hiding away inside
Dreaming of times sometime in the future
When everything feels alright

Written by:
Adrian Mars-Jones, John Morgan

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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