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lyrics

6pm, the one bedroom apartments of the world greet us with closed curtains that we hardly ever furl. The door has snapped shut, now it's quiet, virtually no sound. Double glazing and of course there's no one else around. The fridge is stocked with bread and cheese and bottles of white wine. Suddenly we wonder if we're really doing fine. We think about the books we've read, the records we've collected, the urban single lifestyle that we seem to have perfected. Contemplate if we should call the girl we met last night even though she's phony and she doesn't seem too bright. Plug in our guitars and write another song instead, cry out all the stupid things that circle in our heads. We are pathetic. Can we be smart? Somebody told us that art is hard. This microcosm works pretty well. We’d love to break this old fragile shell - and you can tell.

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from The Game, Not The Rules, released May 21, 2008

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The Sugarbombs Aachen, Germany

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