We are distortion
We are full hearts

We are empty rooms beyond redemption
We are not pure
We are routine

Don't crowd the machine
Write, rehearse, record, rehearse, perform, return, repeat
My mother's records found me

Hungry I devoured every tune
I still dream of distant seas when I hear her sing the blues
She said "we are what we listen to"


You are my home
I am at peace

My heart rate slows
So music man, you pack your bags
Abuse yourself

You sell your soul til you make sure that you come home
You come home safe
My mother's records had me dreaming of a life out on the road

A suitcase and guitar on exchange for a real home
We are what we listen to


We are, we are
My heart sings out
For Only The Lonely

Or Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain
When I heard Tom sing
The Green Grass of Home

I knew I was home

My mother's records found me

Hungry I devoured every tune
I still dream of distant seas when I hear her sing the blues
She said "we are what we listen to"


We are, we are
My heart sings out

For Only The Lonely
Or Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain
When I heard Tom sing

The Green Grass of Home
I knew I was home
I knew I was home


We are what we listen to
We are what we listen to

We are what we listen to
We are what we listen to
We are, we are


She sang the blues