BIO

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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.

Credits

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.

Lyrics

Inland Ocean

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

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 Love

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

Bonnet of Pins

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”

Frozen Oranges

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!

Breaking Into Acting feat. Hand Habits

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

Nowhere Special

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, 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

Little by Little

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

Junk

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

Silver Jeep feat. Ronboy

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

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

Times of Difficulty

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