Bombs Over Providence Broken Records Lyrics:
Well, it was all roses and wine circa 1999. Back
when my mentors spoke through headphones and my
victories all had soundtracks. I'm only getting
back there just today by the good graces of those
to whom I ache to say "Thanks for playing the
way you play."

'Cuz all I stand for are these broken records. And
all I stand for are these broken records.

You know what? Screw the kids. Screw the battles I
won't win due to the condescending ways by which I
try to promote change. Because when all is said,
My heroes are all dead, Save for those precious
few who stayed as strong as the backbones of their
protest songs.

Just when that needle hits the groove, walls
shake, floors break, this body moves. The smoky
nightclubs are where I grew in 4/4 time. Revolt,
resist, and press repeat, I'm fighting with my
tapping feet. This time, this song, they're mine.
The local halls where I grew a spine.

I came alive again tonight watching the great blow
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minds simply by taking the time to convince us
we're in a mismatches fight. You know I wouldn't
change a thing. To have grown up this way, nothing
will ever be the same, nor could I go back to
quieter days.

Just when that needle hits the groove, walls
shake, floors break, this body moves. The smoky
nightclubs are where I grew up in 4/4 time.
Revolt, resist, and press repeat, I'm fighting
with my tapping feet. This time, this song,
they're mine. The local halls where I grew a
spine. And heart. And eyes. And a tongue to cut
'em all down to size.

You must excuse these tired lines, but they've
always suited me fine. I get what it means to
gamble hard, to flirt with losing all but heart.
Got a dancehall putsch? Hey, you know I'm in it.
All for 78 revolutions a minute.

Just when that needle hits the groove, walls
shake, floors break, this body moves. The smoky
nightclubs are where I grew up in 4/4 time.
Revolt, resist, and press repeat, I'm fighting
with my tapping feet. This time, this song,
they're mine. The local halls where I grew a
spine. And heart. And eyes. And a tongue to cut
'em all down to size.

This time, this song, they're mine, all mine.
They're ours.
Lyrics: Broken Records, Bombs Over Providence [end]