Stained Glass Ceilings

The Wonder YearsThe Wonder Years 

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The Wonder Years

The Wonder Years is an American pop punk band from Lansdale, Pennsylvania that formed in June 2005. Since their conception, they have released three full length albums, two EPs, and several splits/compilations. The group is currently signed to Hopeless Records and originally got their name from the television show of the same name. more »

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Like a burning monk
My light flared out in the dark
You're my constant call to arms
Took the blindfold off then left chalk outlines where the future was
It's a goddamn war of attrition
It's a death by a thousand cuts
And if these motherfuckers made it to heaven
They burned the bridge when they got across

They're gathering anchors, they're gathering rope
You push into heaven all alone
They're grabbing your ankles, they won't let you go
The ebb and the distant flow
They're cutting your wings off
Built your ceilings out of stained glass

Well you cut like gravel in my skinned knee
The wound will close eventually
You'll stay as a reminder of how fucked this world can be
Held your funeral on a Tuesday
Holy waters, November cold
The kid who pulled the trigger
Knew too well, couldn't promise him hope

All these bastards are gathering rope
You push into heaven all alone
They're grabbing your ankles, they won't let you go
The ebb and the distant flow
They're cutting your wings off
Built your ceilings out of stained glass
They were cutting your wings off
I was staring at my idle hands
Maybe I could've done something
Maybe I could've made a difference

John Wayne with a God complex tells me to buy a gun
Like shooting a teenage kid is gonna solve any problems
Like it's an arms race, like death don't mean nothing
To know the heavy price of a living boy?
The world in my red lines, backed into a corner
Not knowing growing up what it's like to belong here in America

If everyone feels the same then how come building's so fucking hard for you?
It's something we're all born into
Enough is enough, too gray
It's black or white and sometimes black and blue
It's something we're all born into, whoa-oh
Now I know what's in a name, not just my father
This old man makes half of me, why should I bother?
Machines of misery
Stuck in the dead fucking John Wayne's fucking God complex
Everything in front of me, but there is far enough
To touch those fever dreams they call America
I am the general's chosen one
The privileged bastard's son

They're gathering anchors, they're gathering rope
You push into heaven all alone
They're gathering anchors, they're gathering rope
You push into heaven all alone, no, all alone

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