Will Wakefield and the Congress Hotel
Will Wakefield

Lyrics

©2008 Will Wakefield

I got a bone to pick, with my entitled generation
Hard times equal modesty, on our unemployed vacation
And I paid off all my debts, and I got one more revolution
Going to pick up and deploy against our mutual dissolution

I’m the boy who cried wolf, that wolf is knocking at my door
Yeah when I fell for you, I found out that you were a whore

Crazy goes well with this inmate population
But the meth and gin won’t work with your rehabilitation
If you need a place to sleep, you’re more than welcome in my bed
But you never listen much, should I repeat what I said?

I never asked for help in slitting my wrists,
I can swallow my own foot babe, just like this,
You may have bought all the gas,
But I’m soaking the bridge
You can shoot the vaccine, or contract the infection
But you’ll never find me darling, in the department of correction

I’m not your therapist, and I won’t be your victim service
A prison guard in skirts, to be frank, you make me nervous
Where’s that drink, bartender, need to pour it on my face
I got a tourist guide to hell, oh get me out of this place

The devils in the wine babe, but the poisons in your hips
Yeah baby maybe I’m a creep, but darling maybe you’re a bitch

I am tired of your shit, I just can’t sleep anymore
The little blue pills, don’t seem to work like before
So ruin my escape, with your constant visitation
And sabotage my exit, with my reintegration

I never asked for help in slitting my wrists,
I can swallow my own foot babe, just like this,
You may have bought all the gas,
But I’m soaking the bridge
You can shoot the vaccine, or contract the infection
But you’ll never find me babe, in the department of correction

Go on cuff our hands, go on and tie our feet
Go and run in circles, our history repeats
Get inside the fence, go and shut your mouth
No respect for the law, we have respect for doubt

We never asked for help in slitting our wrists,
We can swallow our own feet, just like this,
You may have bought all the gas, but we’re soaking the bridge
And we can go round for round, until someone gives

And everyone here, really thinks that they know,
And everyone else thinks that this is for show,
But the bomb in the corner, is just about to blow

So shoot the traitor, or assist the defection
I’ll be down the hall babe, in the department of correction

Will Wakefield and the Congress Hotel
Will Wakefield

Lyrics

©2009 Will Wakefield

It’s a place, you go when you are scared
It’s a bandage to hide what you can’t bear

It’s a lamppost on an empty street
It’s a flower, strangled by the weeds
It’s your bottle of choice, at the end of the week
It’s a cigarette when she finally leaves

Tell me, does it make you sick?
When you’re all in, but the game is fixed?
Tell me, does it make you whole?
Are you filled up by your snake oil?

Tell me, what’s your medicine?

It’s the lust, behind an obsession
It’s a ladder in a deep depression

It’s a round of applause that never ends
It’s a letter you wrote, that you never send
It’s the scent of a woman as she walks by
It’s what holds you up when you want to cry

Tell me, does it make you sick?
When you’re all in, but the game is fixed?
Tell me, does it make you whole?
Are you filled up by your snake oil?

Tell me, what’s your medicine?

It’s an acquittal, with the justice served
It’s a compliment that’s undeserved
It’s a flush that’s drawn against a straight
It’s a girl that never makes you wait

It’s an ugly scar that’s never healed
It’s a mask of ice, worn as a shield
It’s an elected official that rose from the slums
It’s the silent scream, when she come’s

Tell me, does it make you sick?
When you’re all in, but the game is fixed?
Tell me, does it make you whole?
Are you filled up by your snake oil?

Tell me, what’s your medicine?

Will Wakefield and the Congress Hotel
Will Wakefield

Lyrics

©2009 Will Wakefield

The first mistake you made, was listening to Me
While street performers sing of loss and poverty
The first mistake you made, was being so bold
While the speculators play on champagne flutes of gold

And the heaven that you want, is the heaven that you make
The real mistake you made, was putting faith in Me

And all that you yearn for, is in the hope that they take
It’s in the love that you share, weighed with what is at stake
You can put your faith in a box, and try not to break
But don’t let that be your last mistake

The first mistake you made, was thinking that you won
Your next mistake was loving one, that won’t love none
The first mistake you made, was attempting to be bad
Your next mistake was grieving, for what you never had

And the heaven that you want, is the heaven that you make
The real mistake you made, was putting faith in Me

And all that you yearn for, is in the hope that they take
It’s in the love that you share, weighed with what is at stake
You can put your faith in a box, and try not to break
But don’t let that be your last mistake

You can leave me if you want, I’m sure you’ll find your own way
You can leave me alone, I don’t need you to stay
So take a ride on this Ferris wheel, things look good at the top,
These wheels don’t have brakes darling, please don’t ever stop

It’s in the love that you want, it’s in the love that you make
It’s in the faith that you have, it’s in the pains that you take
You can put your faith in a box, and try not to ache

But I might be your last mistake, I might be your last mistake
I could be your last mistake, I could be your last mistake

And all that you yearn for, is in the hope that I take
It’s in the love that you want, weighed with what is at stake
You can put your faith in a box, and try not to break

Will Wakefield and the Congress Hotel
Will Wakefield

Lyrics

©2009 Will Wakefield

There are some days I just I can’t go wrong,
And other days I just follow along
The same old story, but a different song, you’ve never been away so long
It’s different from the times before, when both of us knew the score,
Now isn’t baby?
Now isn’t baby?

And the bartender leads a song,
About betters days that have and come and gone
And the patrons they all raise a glass,
To memories buried in their past
And we miss you baby, and we hope you’re doing well
While we get another round, at the Congress Hotel

And as we age, the things that made us rage,
Turn to apathy, and we’re so well behaved
Working at a dead end job, trying to pay the bills, an uphill crawl
We always had to have it all, but that’s a boat going over a waterfall,
Now isn’t baby?
Now isn’t baby?

And the fisherman leads a song,
About a better catch that has and come and gone
And the farmhand he will raise a glass
To a good crop year that came at last
And we miss you baby, and we hope you’re doing well
While we drink our courage, at the Congress Hotel

There are some days, I just can’t make sense
Of what you meant darling, and your indifference
And you’re on the phone, and you won’t be home, and I’ll spend another night alone
It’s jealousy of the unknown, I guess that’s how apart we’ve grown
Now isn’t baby?
Now isn’t baby?

And the ladies want, to hear a song,
About summer days that have come and gone,
And the boys they all raise a glass,
To memories buried in their past
And I miss you baby, and I hope you’re doing well
And it’s starting to rain, at the Congress Hotel