Get Sunk

In 2023, after ten years of living in Los Angeles, Berninger (along with his wife and teenage daughter) moved to Connecticut. This change of scene suited him; he began to spend his days outside, painting, reading, smoking weed and listening to music, much of it his own. He wrote lyrics all over old baseballs, and arranged dust-covered items in his barn into strange and surreal works of art. It felt good to be creating and to understand why he loves what he does.
Throughout his work with The National, Berninger is known for his contemplative narratives in which characters peer over the cliff’s edge. He has always been forthcoming about his own mental and emotional pitfalls. “Our heart’s are like old wells filled with pennies and worms,” he explains. “I can’t resist going down to the bottom of mine to see what else is there. But sometimes you can get yourself stuck.” In 2020 he went through “a long period of writer’s block and self-disgust. I just got sick of of asking myself ‘Why am I like this?’” For him, identity is amorphous and ever-evolving, and stretches beyond individuality. This is the driving force of his second solo album Get Sunk. Under water, everything moves in slow motion and Berninger saw his creative voice slipping away. But sometimes we have to drown to remember how to breathe. Get Sunk is the inhale, bringing blurry memories to the surface.
Berninger worked with Grammy Award-winning producer and engineer Sean O’Brien. The pair would get together once a week to “fuck around for five or six hours.” The sonic world blossomed with the help of of friends and musicians, including Booker T Jones, Meg Duffy (Hand Habits), Julia Laws (Ronboy), Kyle Resnick (The National), Garret Lang, Sterling Laws, Mike Brewer, Walter Martin (Walkmen), Paul Maroon (Walkmen) and Harrison Whitford to name a few. Some recorded individual parts, most recorded together in a basement with Berninger.
The collection of songs spans the last few years, but Berninger re-recorded vocals and rewrote lyrics for many of the older compositions. “I got my voice back, so I needed to say something new,” he explains. Inspired by the flora and fauna of his new home, he recalled his childhood on the edge of Ohio, and spending summers on his aunt and uncle’s farm in Indiana with his five cousins. They would hike in creeks, cracking open “crystal apples” (a Berninger term for geodes) surrounded by Osage orange trees and dirt, dust and bugs. They harvested Christmas trees and tobacco––Berninger admits he’s loved nicotine since first chewing on a tobacco plant when he was 12––and camped out. On one particular freezing night, Berninger kept close to the fire and woke to find the soles of his shoes sizzling blue-violet.
Get Sunk is not necessarily an autobiographical album, but the narrator is processing how he became himself. Who is he compared to the kid on that sepia-toned farm? What is his idea of happiness? What the hell are we all searching for? Berninger is an expert in what it feels like to lose all bravery, and Get Sunk points to an undulating reflection in the water. It’s about realizing that you are not yourself without a thousand others; parents, friends, siblings, spouses and exes, college roommates, childhood best friends, cousins and kids, strangers even.
Get Sunk’s opener “Inland Ocean” matches propulsive, marching keys with a choral chant: “God loves the inland ocean / Lost cause, I have no emotion.” Berninger often drifts to water in his lyrics––ocean sounds and kids’ voices are heard on the Ronboy-featuring “Silver Jeep” and album closer “Times of Difficulty” speaks of “how long we’ve been staring out to sea.” He says this is not an intentional motif, but rather a more expansive metaphor. “It’s a sea of wildflowers, or crickets. It’s that drowning feeling of life. It’s a sea of stars,” he says, adding, “dead stars still delight us.” It was important to Berninger that these songs be delightful and romantic. He wanted the sun to come out, to find the colors and bright spots, but also encourage the shadows to coexist. “Times of Difficulty” points to this reach as he sings “I’ll think of you if you think of me / The way the sky thinks of the sea.”
Get Sunk’s “Bonnet of Pins” highlights his knack for world-building, pointing to the tiny details that make this stuff palpable. There are cigarettes and styrofoam cups filled with Nabokov cocktails, miscommunication and sorrow. It’s a reminder that grief can also be a little funny. “Breaking Into Acting,” which features Meg Duffy (Hand Habits) on vocals, laments on the plasticity of performance. “Your mouth is always full of blood packets / You’re breaking into acting / I completely understand,” the pair sing over a slow acoustic sway. “Sometimes you have to fake forgiveness before you can actually forgive,” he explains.
Get Sunk is an ode to the infinite. The others that make us who we are; the possibilities our paths can take and the abyss of both misery and bliss. Never static, Berninger dissolves the border between process and product, and surrenders to the many shapes both he and these songs will take. These shapes oscillate throughout Get Sunk but coalesce just enough to offer catharsis, and something that feels tangible and real. “I was able to get the blurry picture as close to just right for me,” he says. That the picture ever comes into full focus isn’t the point; it’s by being happy that we can make out anything at all.
Produced by Sean O’Brien
Recorded and Mixed by Sean O’Brien at Knobworld (Los Angeles, CA)
Additional Recording at Firehouse 12 Studio B (New Haven, CT) + Opaque Window Sound (Buffalo, NY)
Additional Engineering by Garret Lang, Nick Lloyd, Kyle Resnick, Peter Wells
Assisted by Carly Bond, Tobias Kuhn
Mastered by Joe Lambert at JLM Sound
Vinyl Cut by Joe Nino-Hernes at Sterling Sound
Lyrics written by Matt Berninger
Photography: Nick Veasey
Package Design: Dale Doyle for Holotype
Featured Vocalists:
Breaking Into Acting: Hand Habits
Silver Jeep: Ronboy
Saturday Musicians:
Meg Duffy
Jamie Heaslip
Booker T Jones
Phil Krohnengold
Garret Lang
Julia Laws
Sterling Laws
Nick Lloyd
Maxim Ludwig
Marina Meshkova
Gabe Noel
Sean O’Biren
Kyle Resnick
Harrison Whitford
01. Inland Ocean
(Matt Berninger-Walter Martin)
Concord Sounds (ASCAP) o/b/o Pope Rathman Music (ASCAP) / Family Jukebox (ASCAP)
Matt Berninger – vocals
Phil Krohnengold – keyboards, organ
Garret Lang – bass
Julia Laws – backing vocals
Sterling Laws – drum kit, drum machine, percussion
Maxim Ludwig – harmonica
Sean O’Brien – electric guitar, acoustic guitar, organ
02. No Love
(Matt Berninger-Sean O’Brien)
Concord Sounds (ASCAP) o/b/o Pope Rathman Music (ASCAP) / Third Lion Music (BMI)
Matt Berninger – vocals
Garret Lang – bass, bass synth
Julia Laws – backing vocals, keyboards
Sterling Laws – drum kit, drum machine, percussion
Nick Lloyd – piano, keyboards
Sean O’Brien – keyboards, loops
03. Bonnet Of Pins
(Matt Berninger-Sean O’Brien)
Concord Sounds (ASCAP) o/b/o Pope Rathman Music (ASCAP) / Third Lion Music (BMI)
Matt Berninger – vocals
Garret Lang – bass
Julia Laws – backing vocals, keyboards
Sterling Laws – drum kit, percussion
Sean O’Brien – acoustic guitars, electric guitars, keyboards, loops
Kyle Resnick – trumpet, vocals
04. Frozen Oranges
(Matt Berninger-Sean O’Brien)
Concord Sounds (ASCAP) o/b/o Pope Rathman Music (ASCAP) / Third Lion Music (BMI)
Matt Berninger – vocals
Garret Lang – bass
Julia Laws – backing vocals, keyboards
Sterling Laws – drum kit, percussion
Sean O’Brien – electric guitar, lapsteel, organ, piano, vibraphone
Kyle Resnick – trumpet
05. Breaking Into Acting feat. Hand Habits
(Matt Berninger-Sean O’Brien)
Concord Sounds (ASCAP) o/b/o Pope Rathman Music (ASCAP) / Third Lion Music (BMI)
Matt Berninger – vocals
Meg Duffy – vocals, electric guitar, effects
Garret Lang – upright bass
Sterling Laws – percussion
Sean O’Brien – acoustic guitar, piano, keyboards
06. Nowhere Special
(Matt Berninger-Sean O’Brien)
Concord Sounds (ASCAP) o/b/o Pope Rathman Music (ASCAP) / Third Lion Music (BMI)
Matt Berninger – vocals
Garret Lang – bass
Julia Laws – backing vocals, keyboards
Sterling Laws – drum kit, percussion
Sean O’Brien – electric guitars, keyboards, vibraphone
07. Little By Little
(Matt Berninger-Mike Brewer)
Concord Sounds (ASCAP) o/b/o Pope Rathman Music (ASCAP) / Cocksure Music (BMI)
Matt Berninger – vocals
Booker T Jones – organ
Phil Krohnengold – piano
Garret Lang – bass
Julia Laws – backing vocals
Sterling Laws – drum kit, percussion
Sean O’Brien – acoustic guitar, electric guitar, lapsteel, keyboards
Harrison Whitford – acoustic guitar
08. Junk
(Matt Berninger-Paul Maroon)
Concord Sounds (ASCAP) o/b/o Pope Rathman Music (ASCAP) / Maroon Music (ASCAP)
Matt Berninger – vocals
Booker T Jones – keyboards
Phil Krohnengold – keyboards
Garret Lang – bass
Sterling Laws – drum kit, percussion
Gabe Noel – koto, viola da gamba
Sean O’Brien – electric guitar, lapsteel, loops, organ, piano
Harrison Whitford – electric guitar
09. Silver Jeep feat. Ronboy
(Matt Berninger-Sean O’Brien)
Concord Sounds (ASCAP) o/b/o Pope Rathman Music (ASCAP) / Third Lion Music (BMI)
Matt Berninger – vocals
Garret Lang – bass
Julia Laws – vocals, keyboards
Sterling Laws – drum kit, percussion
Sean O’Brien – piano, acoustic guitar, keyboards
Kyle Resnick – trumpet, backing vocals
10. Times Of Difficulty
(Matt Berninger-Mike Brewer)
Concord Sounds (ASCAP) o/b/o Pope Rathman Music (ASCAP) / Cocksure Music (BMI)
Matt Berninger – vocals
Mike Brewer – group vocals
Meg Duffy – electric guitar, effects
Jamie Heaslip – group vocals
Booker T Jones – backing vocals, organ, keyboards
Philip Krohnengold – piano, group vocals
Garret Lang – bass, upright bass, group vocals
Julia Laws – backing vocals, group vocals
Sterling Laws – drum kit, group vocals, percussion
Maxim Ludwig – group vocals
Marina Meshkova – group vocals
Sean O’Brien – acoustic guitar, electric guitar
Harrison Whitford – group vocals, electric guitar
Hand Habits appears courtesy of Fat Possum Records
All songs written by Matt Berninger (Pope Rathman Music administered by Concord Sounds; ASCAP) and Sean O’Brien (Third Lion Music; BMI) except “Inland Ocean” written by Matt Berninger and Walter Martin (Family Jukebox; ASCAP), “Little By Little” written by Matt Berninger and Mike Brewer (Cocksure Music; BMI) and “Junk” written by Matt Berninger and Paul Maroon (Maroon Music; ASCAP)
Thank you Isla Berninger, Nancy Berninger, Paul Berninger, Rachel Berninger, Tom Berninger, Carin Besser, Erik Flannigan, Dale Doyle, Jamie Heaslip, Nick Veasey, Nick Lloyd, Phil Krohnengold, Todd Snyder, Neal Katyal, Graham MacIndoe, Matt Barrick, Robert Draper, Hayden Desser, Hannah Georges, Atul Gawande, Brent Knopf, Matt Sheehy, Harrison Whitford, Rosanne Cash, Mick Fleetwood, The National, Booker T Jones
Management: Erik Flannigan, Ace Scott and Shaun Gibson
Legal: Gillian Bar, Ayan Hotchkiss, Sherry Katopodes and Christopher Reynolds for Carroll Guido Groffman Cohen Bar & Karalian, LLP
Business Management: Hyun-Joo Park, Tara Moore, Gloria Lee and Phil Sarna for PSBM
Publicity: Dana Erickson and Kate Jackson for Grandstand Media (US)
Booking: James Alderman (Free Trade Agency UK/Europe), Kevin French (CAA US/Canada)
mattberninger.com
concordrecords.com
℗ & © 2025 Matt Berninger. Under exclusive license to Concord Records. Manufactured for and Distributed by Concord, 10 Lea Avenue, Suite 300, Nashville, TN 37210. All Rights Reserved. Unauthorized duplication is a violation of applicable laws.
God loves the inland ocean
Lost cause, I have no emotion
God loves the inland ocean
Lost cause, I have no emotion
Flew to Indiana to see a friend
She was already dust by then
I needed a walk, I needed a swim
I flew to Indiana to see a friend
Let me stay here, let me please
Wrap me up in your summer sheets
Say you’re never getting rid of me
Wrap me up and bury me
And bury me, and bury me
Tell me what to wear, and what to say
Maybe I’ll turn into you someday
I needed a walk, I needed a swim
Flew to Indiana to see a friend
Let me stay here, let me please
Wrap me up in your summer sheets
Say you’re never getting rid of me
Wrap me up and bury me
And bury me, and bury me
God loves the inland ocean
Lost cause, I have no emotion
God loves the inland ocean
Lost cause, I have no emotion
No emotion
Everything ends before I want it to
I needed more time alone with you
Isn’t there anything I can do
Everything ends before I want it to
Everything ends before I want it to
Needed more time alone with you
Isn’t there anything I can do
Everything ends before I want it to
Before I want it to, before I want it to
Before I want it to…
God loves the inland ocean
Lost cause, I have no emotion
God loves the inland ocean
Lost cause, I have no emotion
God loves the inland ocean
Lost cause, I have no emotion
God loves the inland ocean
Lost cause, I have no emotion
No emotion
No emotion
No emotion
This place has a sinking feeling
The energy’s so strange
No one can tell what the difference is
Between spine and fame
The music’s so unromantic
Our eyeballs are red and dry
It doesn’t have anything to do with anything
The vibes aren’t right
No love, we don’t know how it happened
Everything we ever wanted
But no love
Maybe after once in a lifetime
We’ll figure out what we lost
But we won’t have any idea where
Probably somewhere out in the parking lot
This place has a sinking feeling
The energy’s so strange
No one can tell what the difference is
Between spine and fame
No love, we don’t know how it happened
Everything we ever wanted, but no love
No love, we keep keeping on without it
The music’s so unromantic
No love
We say sorry then
We laugh it off
With careful hugs
And kisses off the cheek
We say sorry then
We laugh it off
With careful hugs
And kisses off the cheek
No love, we don’t know how it happened
Everything we ever wanted, but no love
No love, we keep keeping on without it
The music’s so unromantic
No love
We say sorry then
We laugh it off
With careful hugs
And kisses off the cheek
Takes a lot to really disappear
Always leave traces in the leaves
Never thought I’d see her here
Never thought I’d see her again
She sidewinders through the room to me
With a real cigarette and a Styrofoam coffee
And she’s still wearing her father’s feather jacket
She holds out her hands and I stand to receive her
Trying to remember the last time I’d seen her
Somehow, she looks younger now
She finishes off my drink and
Puts on her bonnet of pins and
Says “I thought I’d find you much quicker than this
You must’ve thought I didn’t exist. Poor you. I do
We better go before your boyfriends cry”
She says she takes photos of tractor bones
And sells them to model luxury homes
The closest thing she’s ever found to love
Is the kind you can’t get rid of fast enough
She finishes off my drink and
Puts on her bonnet of pins and
Says “I thought I’d find you much quicker than this
You must’ve thought I didn’t exist. Poor you, I do
We better go before your boyfriends cry”
Take the stairs to the bottom where the lights are out
And I’ll be there with a lighter and a Nabokov cocktail
Forget the questionnaires and the oral histories
I don’t care how many times you almost said you miss me
It’s a cup trick shell game, it’s a puff of smoke
And it gets me every time, it’s a pretty good joke
I know that you miss me, I know that you miss me
This stuff takes a lifetime
She finishes off my drink and
Puts on her bonnet of pins and
Says “I thought I’d find you much quicker than this
You must’ve thought I didn’t exist. Poor you, I do
I thought I’d find you much quicker than this
You must’ve thought I didn’t exist. Poor you, I do
We better go before your boyfriends cry”
Fix my breakfast of flavored ice
Sit outside in the sun with the houseflies
I could concentrate in a place like this
In Indiana
Can I borrow your bike for a while
I need to get some things off my mind
I think I’ll tool around along the river till I’m lost
There’s frozen oranges in the trees in Indiana, in Indiana
And crystal apples in the creeks, in Indiana, in Indiana
Put the powder in a metal water bottle
We’re going swimming in, in a limestone quarry
It’s Saturday! It’s Saturday!
There’s frozen oranges in the trees in Indiana, in Indiana
And crystal apples in the creeks, in Indiana, in Indiana
Catch a beetle in my teeth
And put it an envelope and bring it to you
It’s not really an animal
You need to receive something beautiful
That you can feel sorry for
Anything other than yourself, that’s what I tell myself
Put it on a string and take it to a festival, I don’t know
Maybe we should find the place where O’Hara died
Maybe we can get inside
Bet you anything he had some secrets
Bet you anything he kept ‘em in the fridge
Maybe we should go to church or the hospital
Maybe we should stop and talk to the cops a little
Wouldn’t be a bad idea for them to know my face
Frozen oranges in the trees in Indiana, in Indiana
And crystal apples in the creeks, in Indiana, in Indiana
Put the powder in a metal water bottle
We’re going swimming in, in a limestone quarry
It’s Saturday! It’s Saturday!
Put the powder in a metal water bottle
We’re going swimming in, in a limestone quarry
It’s Saturday! It’s Saturday!
Ever since you were a kid you could cry on command
Everybody said it’s a gift, you should use it whenever you can
You can do it big or you can do it like you don’t really care
Just tell you where
Turns out almost anyone can do it
It’s a scam
Always have a cheat sheet in your jacket
You’re breaking into acting
You’ll do anything to be discovered
It’s getting outta hand
Your mouth is always full of blood packets
You’re breaking into acting
Gonna make me a fan
Give you something you can work with
And you’re gonna make it worth the price of tickets
You’ve read everything they’ve ever written
About how to use your eyes to succeed in business
Let me know when we should start or are we already started? (I don’t care)
Is anybody there?
It’s a scam
Always have a cheat sheet in your jacket
You’re breaking into acting
You’ll do anything to be discovered
It’s getting outta hand
Your mouth is always full of blood packets
You’re breaking into acting
I completely understand
You give it all you got, but for the record
I don’t believe it at all, not for a second
It’s a scam
Always have a cheat sheet in your jacket
You’re breaking into acting
You’ll do anything to be discovered
It’s getting outta hand
Your mouth is always full of blood packets
You’re breaking into acting
You’re gonna make me a fan
Can we kill the- Can we kill the click? There’s still a little latency situation
I’ll just do a non-thinking thinking
I’m already late for the bungalow meeting to explain
Why it’s been nearly four years since they’ve heard anything
And now that the time and the money is out or pretty much out
They feel they should know what this whole thing’s about and I get it
I’ll slur my city words into the mind grinder microphone
My skull isn’t soft anymore, it has cracks in it like a floor
This stuff just leaks out now wherever it wants to in cars with kids
In front of my brother and sister, let’s just keep going in loops
Cuz I’ve got nowhere to be, nowhere, nowhere special
I’ve got nowhere to be, nowhere, nowhere special
I’ve got nowhere to be, I’ve got nowhere to be, I’ve got nowhere to be
Nowhere, nowhere special
Don’t make me cry in the back of a black car
I don’t care where we’re going just keep going and going in loops
There’s still some kind of low latency slippage
And it knocks me off my teeth and I get sound-sick and sound schizophrenic
You know what? I love you for saying yes when you know I don’t believe it
All that shouting across the pool and all that talk of affection
I’ll slur your slishy words into my mind grinder kiosk
So we can spend most of the time going out to lunch against our will
I found a new way to clear out an old mood
Why do I let it get to me, go ahead and have another breakthrough, uh huh
You’ll become an art project in a blue pleated skirt
Standing on a drop cloth, lift the thing up
Down goes the blood and down goes my career as a Catholic
You’re gonna lose your cool if we keep revising this
Let’s start over, latency’s getting in front of me now
It knocks me off my rhythm and it messes with my glow
A bat can haul our recording equipment into the woods
I know we shouldn’t but I feel like we should
It’s not a novel on a plane, not an after-party pinnacle
You know there’s no lust for it in here, there’s no place for lust
Write it on a baseball until the white skin runs out
Your life’s entirely optional, we’re going for honesty spirals
Highlighted oily areas that really rewire your linear melon
I beg for your attention, I never command it, look at me, look at me, look at me
I got another new credit card from some Silicon-Valley vulture
And a vat of Vaseline to slip into our sleepy souls with
We’ll smear it on a mirror in a queer cursive slant
We’ll get a shitty hotel where you can open your heart and you can explain it to me
In a thin red pen on a yellowing leaf
Are we ever gonna talk
Are we ever going to ignore it
The way that you avoid my eyes and how it destroys me
I want to believe in this one little fantasy
What is it for you because this frazzled my guts
I’ve got nowhere to be
I’ve got nowhere to be, nowhere, nowhere special
I’ve got nowhere to be, nowhere, nowhere special
I’ve got nowhere to be, I’ve got nowhere to be, I’ve got nowhere to be
Nowhere, nowhere special
In a language of containment we let our lips get electric
And slide our teeth along the lines we never meant to mention
Dry mouth take a bow before we compromise to death
Good drugs and goldfish are the best parts of both of us
A good chance of rain between patches of sun
Is one of the all-time greatest weather reports isn’t it
I guess it goes without saying, it goes without saying
It’s way too hot to hold hands
I had to get my nails out of my hair because my dream has all been real
I’m hung up on you, you know what, we should get away
I can get you in a pick-up
I can take you to the house we almost never built by mistake
We can go camping inside Indian caves
I can put your legs on my makeup table
I don’t know where to be, I’ve got nowhere special
I don’t know where to be, nowhere, nowhere special
I’ve got nowhere to be, I’ve got nowhere to be, I’ve got nowhere to be
Nowhere, nowhere special
I’ll slur my city words into the mind grinder microphone
This stuff leaks out wherever it wants to in cars with kids
Don’t make me cry in the back of a black car
I don’t care where we’re going
There’s still some kind of low latency slippage
It knocks me off my teeth and I sound sick and schizophrenic
You know what? You know what? I love you
And all that shouting across the pool and talk of affection
I’ll slur your slishy words
I found a new way to clear out my old mood
Cuz you’ve become an art project in a pleated skirt
Standing on a drop cloth
Down goes the blood, start over
A bat can haul our recording equipment into the woods
I know we shouldn’t but I feel like we should
Our mothers and fathers, I guess we forgot ‘em
Give them a bottle
Can’t tell what they’re saying, always pacing always praying
How long they staying?
Seal up the door frame, ten years of white rain
In comes the water
Only so much you can take of every day heartbreak
Little by little
Little by little you don’t come around
Little by little you go underground
Little by little
Little by little come apart at the seams
Little by little turn into dust and dreams
Little by little
I don’t really know him, I don’t really need to
But you should eat what feeds you
Every tiny ask, every single nibble
Boy it’ll kill you
Get up to fighting weight, I’m taking you on a date
Fuck it I can’t wait
You’re either with me or you’re not, feels like you forgot
Little by little
Little by little you don’t come around
Little by little you go underground
Little by little
Little by little come apart at the seams
Little by little turn into dust and dreams
Little by little
Little by little uh uh uh uh oh oh
I’ll let you down
Little by little uh uh uh uh oh oh
I won’t make a sound
Little by little uh uh uh uh oh oh
I’ll let you down
Little by little uh uh uh uh oh oh
I won’t make a sound
Little by little you don’t come around
Little by little you go underground
Little by little
Little by little come apart at the seams
Little by little turn into dust and dreams
Little by little
Little by little you don’t come around
Little by little you go underground
Little by little
Little by little come apart at the seams
Little by little turn into dust and dreams
Little by little
Crows, bones and ashes and never-ending roaches
That’s what I’m betting on as morning approaches
Windmills and aliens and brown paper straws
Something’ll save me baby, it always does
You can have me baby, do what you want
Take me all apart, I’m only junk
Do what you need to baby, I’m giving up
I only love you baby, I’m only love
Not getting far here baby, on my back
Follow me in the car across the train tracks
Into Indiana I’ll be sleeping there
Flowers growing in my bones and crows sleeping in my hair
You can have me baby, do what you want
Take me all apart, I’m only junk
Do what you need to baby, I’m giving up
I only love you baby, I’m only love
Without you baby, I’m only junk
I’m only love, I’m only junk
The last time I tried to write to you
My thumbs were numb, my sentences residue
I gotta get a message to you without signals
AC motor puts me right to sleep
I dream of dreaming and grind my teeth
I picked up Sprites for both of us at the drive-thru
I didn’t want you to think I knew anything at all
About the rumor somebody saw you
Somewhere in the middle of nowhere in a Silver Jeep
All I want is my soul to keep working
I see the sunlight creep around the curtain
I’m, I’m not going anywhere near the window
If the guy comes to do the garden
I’ll leave an envelope by the faucet
I’m not expecting anything from you though
I didn’t want you to think I knew anything at all
About the rumor somebody saw you
Somewhere in the middle of nowhere in a silver Jeep
Silver Jeep
I only want you to chase me
I only want you to rattle my bones and run
I see you out there somewhere in a silver Jeep
After me, till you see my lights are gone
I didn’t want you to think I knew anything at all
About the rumor somebody saw you
Somewhere in the middle of nowhere in a silver Jeep
I only want you to chase me
I only want you to rattle my bones and run
I see you out there somewhere in a silver Jeep
After me, till you see my lights are gone
Silver Jeep
Silver Jeep
I only want you to chase me
I only want you to rattle my bones and run
The last second before I sleep
Till you see my lights are gone
Where is the bread? Where is the butter?
Can’t you use your beautiful head for me
How quickly we both can’t remember
How long we’ve been staring out to sea
In times of heartache get drunk
In times of tears get sunk
In times of shame forget
In times of weather get wet
I’ll think of you if you think of me
In times of difficulty
When will you call me in for supper?
I’ve been so high up in the trees
When can we vanish for the winter?
When will you kiss me in my sleep?
In times of heartache get drunk
In times of tears get sunk
In times of shame forget
In times of weather get wet
In times of loneliness stay home
People make you feel even more alone
When you look at the stars do you see anything?
Is it anything like what you thought it would be?
I’ll think of you if you think of me
The way the sky thinks of the sea
In times of difficulty
Get drunk! Get sunk! Forget! Get wet!
Feels like we missed another summer
If we’re not dying, then what are we?
Already dead or under the weather
How can we tell in times like these?
In times of difficulty
In times of difficulty
In times of difficulty
In times of difficulty
In times of difficulty
In times of difficulty
In times of difficulty
In times of difficulty
Matt Berninger - Get Sunk
Matt Berninger - Breaking Into Acting
Matt Berninger - Get Sunk Out Now
Concord Records, Marketing: Gulce Turek
[email protected]
Grandstand, PR: Dana Erickson
[email protected]
Grandstand, PR: Kate Jackson
[email protected]
Fifth Avenue, UK PR: Sarah Lowe
[email protected]
Brace Yourself, UK Radio: Ivano Maggiulli
[email protected]