Curse of the I-5 Corridor

Mark LaneganMark Lanegan 

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Mark Lanegan

Mark Lanegan (born November 25, 1964) is an American alternative rock musician and singer-songwriter. Born and raised in Ellensburg, Washington, Lanegan began his musical career in 1985, forming the grunge band Screaming Trees with Gary Lee Conner, Van Conner and Mark Pickerel. During his time in the band, Lanegan also started a low-key solo career and released his first solo studio album, The Winding Sheet, in 1990. Since 1990, he has released a further six studio albums and has received critical recognition and moderate commercial success. more »

Year:

2018

7:01

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I waited too long to write this down
The startling sensation is fading
The sweet, sweet burn of the
First drink of the night underaged
Knowing that you're gonna get away with it

You were a good man before you knew it
And I'm not vain enough to think that
I'd have been good for you if I'd stayed
In the current of your life
I was an eyelash in the shipping lanes

And now I'm so scared about mystery
I fear I smell extinction in the
Folds of this novacaine age coming on
I miss the smell of mystery
Reverb leaking outta tavern doors
And not knowing how the sounds were made

So I left home and faked my ID
I fucked every man that I wanted to be
I was so stupid then
Why should mystery give its last name

Baby, I'm afraid
But it's not your fault
Maybe I should go
Home alone tonight

Baby, I'm afraid
But it's not your fault
Maybe I should go
Home alone tonight

Now I'll see you in our old home
Where I'm always scared to go
Those thirty garbage miles
Making with cigarette butts and used tires
To be poor is the anchor that makes us so sure

Your sandy voice across my brow
You haven't aged a day
Is it because you took a shortcut that
Makes people say you're crazy
Is it true
You're a time traveler, are you?
Is it true
I've seen crazy too

Can it be a comfort between us
Because I never wanna know for sure

Baby, I'm afraid
But it's not your fault
Maybe I should go
Home alone tonight

Baby, I'm afraid
But it's not your fault
Maybe I should go
Home alone tonight

We used to meddle over the bridge

Now I write this in a pale town
Where excitement is a yellow curb
My dream awake leaps through my window
From the highway

You turn my head and set the brake too late
It needs to tease metric tons
Crash comes, comes, comes)
It goes down my public face
Behind the reservoir of collar bones
Forms two private lakes, lakes, lakes, lakes

Baby, I'm a fool

Hoping is so easy
You haven't gained a day
Two self-fulfilling prophecies
Who don't even have each other
Not that we would ever get away with it

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