In a shadowy tapestry of yearning and reflection, Trampled by Turtles weaves a tale where nostalgia dances with disillusionment. The lyrics reflect a world where fleeting memories and relentless time underscore a longing for a simpler past. The song hints at societal chaos, with "circuses" and "troubled juries," critiques a media landscape filled with hollow voices, and paints a surreal picture of a brother entangled in the clandestine and the incarcerated. Amidst such turmoil, there's a poignant desire for connection and solace, a beckoning to leave behind the chaos and embrace the comfort of familiar arms under a midnight sky. This narrative is an introspective journey through personal and collective uncertainties, seeking refuge in the little certainty left – love and belonging.
My Brother Works for the CIA
Lyrics
I'm still looking out your window, your shady tones of home
Where dusty memories echo down like rain
And the years grow ever longer, the days go flying by
But I cant wait til you and I are finally home again
Well there ain't no easy answers when the circus is in town
Troubled juries hang each other dead
And the TVs filled with poets, who only write in rhyme
And my brother works for the CIA when hes not doing time
When comfort comforts no one, surrounded by your name
There is no one that I can talk to now
And this town is a painting, and I am but a dream
So come live me outside the lonely fields of midnight may
Well there ain't no easy answers when the circus is in town
Troubled juries hang each other dead
And the TVs filled with poets, who only write in rhyme
And my brother works for the CIA when hes not doing time
And when the nighttime tricks me to believin' I'm the same
As every barstool in this god damn place
You come put your arms around me, slowly say my name
So come live with me outside the lonely fields of midnight may
Well there ain't no easy answers when the circus is in town
Troubled juries hang each other dead
And the TVs filled with poets, who only write in rhyme
And my brother works for the CIA when hes not doing time
Well there ain't no easy answers when the circus is in town
Troubled juries hang each other dead
And the TVs filled with poets, who only write in rhyme
And my brother works for the CIA when hes not doing time
Writer(s): DAVID CARROLL, DAVID PAUL SIMONETT, ERIK BERRY, TIMOTHY SAXHAUG
Copyright(s): Lyrics © TERRORBIRD PUBLISHING LLC
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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