Fresh Coat from Fresh Coat by Underdog Upperhand

If these walls could talk, I know they’d be singing out the saddest fucking song;
One of failed attempts and broken promises.
And even though the floors are trembling with every tiptoed step,
We’re just steady mixing up the prettiest hues.

And what did we expect, in terms of support,
When we braced our ceilings with beams made of branches from our granddaddies’ hanging trees?

But if we can hide the cracks then no one has to know,
(That) We’re on our heels (and) running out of time.
(We’re) Just painting a fresh coat over a broken foundation,
And hoping beyond all hope somehow it makes us whole.

If these walls could talk, I think they’d be crying out, begging to meet their end;
Their bodies marred and aching from a lifetime of disregard.
And even though the cold wind blows right through (‘cause) the sealant has rotted away,
We just keep on mixing up colors, tried and true.

And what did we expect, in terms of superficial gravitas,
By patching holes in walls with dishonored treaties and the tears we found on the trail?

But if we can hide the cracks then no one has to know,
(That) We’re on our heels (and) running out of time.
(We’re) Just painting a fresh coat over a broken foundation,
And hoping beyond all hope somehow it makes us whole.

We’re just painting a fresh coat.

• DIY
• Experimental
• Palatine