In the Fall - Lyrics - Jared Mees & The Grown Children

In the fall we can go huntin' down by the banks of old Mill Creek Oh, you're guns all rusted out and mine's just made for shooting skeet Oh, we can leave 'em in the truck and take two pints of wild turk And when they ask us what we got, we'll say, "Well, we got out of work" And either you got longer legs or you got bigger lungs Cause I know for a fact we done the same amount of drugs And I'm lying in a heap on the side of the trail While you take the shortcuts up to the top of the hill But anyway, I'm terrified of heights You gotta climb it alone But when you get to the top, won't you holler back down What's it look like up there? I always kinda wanted to know Woah, woah Well, I got me a stereo I keep kinda low Until a good song comes on, and then I kinda let her go There's still music out there that warms my insides It makes my days a tiny little bit more demiserified Like right now Bob Wells and his Playboys are talking Bout how the big man gets the money while the little one picks the cotton And the big fish eats the little fish, but that little fish was really bait And I eat that big fish up with a silver spoon and a paper plate The utensil I received from my mother and dad But the plate I made myself with my own two hands And I don't mind either one just as long as nobody knows Woah, woah Well, I remember the day with my brother and his best friend They burst into my room looking like the world come to an end They said there's a fire on the hill, but it's near the reservoir We can put it out but we gotta take mom and dad's car And I cursed both And then I said lets go Woah, woah You're giving me that look that says you're in it deep Unless that's the look that says tonight don't plan on any sleep I guess I'll take my chances with the one, hold out hope for the other But girl, oh, wait a second, that smile's kinda blowing your cover And we're sucking in the wind and snow through the cracks between our smiles Making tracks back to the village, though we still got a couple miles Where we can sharpen up our fangs, flatten out our feathers And thank the good lord up above for this god awful weather And if it's too good just tell me, I'll do something wrong But I'm thinking that you're winking cause you kinda like this song And that bottle of Sangria wasn't such a bad idea after all Woah, woah