lyrics
There's a fresh coat of snow on the White House lawn
and a cruel fucking year's seen its final dawn.
Inside, wealthy men in dull gray suits
drink California wine from Champagne flutes
and they smile, cuz they made it.
"Let's have another round!"
Back in Brooklyn, my friend's in a cheerless mood.
Forty hours a week and he's stealing food.
He's off his meds again; he can't afford 'em.
Takes another swig to kill the boredom.
It's whiskey and chill again.
"Let's drown the sirens out."
Everything's alright, for me.
I've got a job and home and insurance, and I'm stupid lucky.
But only part of me believes
that my friends, or New York, or that anyone else
sees February.
We can't buy the truth, it's packaged in lies.
We were led to the ladder, but our hands were tied.
When the market decides who lives and who dies,
it's a cruel fucking year.
Shots are fired in crowds and the levees spill.
If the world doesn't kill us, the planet will.
An island's desperate cries are met with silence,
men we're meant to trust default to violence,
and this degradation looks like it's here to stay.
But everything's alright for me.
Hell, I never knew how to struggle 'til I looked at the others 'round me.
But I can't guarantee
that my friends, or New York, or that anyone else
sees February
We can't buy the truth, it's packaged in lies.
We were led to the ladder, but our hands were tied.
When the market decides who lives and who dies,
it's a cruel fucking year.
It's a new humiliation at the start of each day,
it's the sick realization it was always this way.
Now we all hate each other, got nothin' to say.
It's been a cruel fucking year.
credits
from
A Cruel Fucking Year,
released November 17, 2017
Written, performed, and produced by Dylan Roth on GarageBand for iPhone.
license
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