More songs by Noah Kahan
Description
Composer Lyricist, Producer, Vocalist: Noah Kahan
Composer Lyricist, Producer: Gabe Simon
Background Vocalist, Production Coordinator, Composer Lyricist: Carrie K
Engineer, Composer Lyricist: Sam Westhoff
Recording Second Engineer: Matt Hall
Additional Engineer: Alberto Sewald
Additional Engineer: Maddie Harmon
Other: Dannon Johnson
Mixing Engineer: Ryan Hewitt
Mixing Second Engineer: Tyler Spratt
Mixing Second Engineer: Max Challis
Mastering Engineer: Ted Jensen
Lyrics and translation
Original
I called you
But I'd run out of words
So I stared at the plastic
Collidin' with dirt
At the fast food
Sign out in Leb
I prepared for the warfare
With the voice in my head
And I thought it was strange
How the letters were placed
How the hiring sign
Seemed to laugh in my face
And if you were here, you'd make a joke of it
I'm alone, getting lost in the scope of it
And I see you drive in
And your love is like an open flame
I'm a running car, you're a closed garage
Someone once told us there's a world out there
But we don't care enough to drive that far
It's been a damn near perfect day
Just getting high at the outlet mall
Most people grow up and they move away
But you don't care, and I don't mind at all
I got the car, you got the bag
A handwritten note left from mom and dad
Police scanner bouncing on the dash
A cup of burnt coffee and a check to cash
I had the brains for a city job
But you got the taste of a county cop
A pack of cigarettes and a round of golf
Make a livin' workin' for the paid time off
Such simple lines
They drew to make this place
In the interest of time
We got a whole lot to waste
And your love is like an open flame
I'm a running car and you're a closed garage
Someone once said there's a world out there
But we don't care enough to drive that far
It's been a damn near perfect day
Just getting high at the outlet mall
People grow and they move away
But you don't care, and I don't mind at all
You don't care, and I don't mind at all
I got the car, you got the bag
A handwritten note left from mom and dad
A police scanner bouncing on the dash
A cup of burnt coffee and a check to cash
I had the brains for a city job
But you got the taste of a county cop
A pack of cigarettes and a round of golf
Make a livin' workin' for the paid time of