Bug Out Bag

by Hidden House

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lyrics

I am prone to fits of fear,
It's built in me,
I'll be fine,
Just humor me,
I swear to come down,
Don't mention their names.

Verging on catastrophe,
Why am I here,
Pack our bags for that one day,
We'll grab our cat and be gone,
A permanent chase around my fear.

Chasing something,
Oh I'm chasing something I'm never gonna catch.
Chasing something,
Oh I'm chasing something I'm never gonna catch.
Chasing something,
Oh I'm chasing something I'm never gonna fucking catch.
Chasing something,
Oh I'm chasing something I'm never gonna catch.
Chasing something,
Oh I'm chasing something...

Now you're the ones not wanted here,
And that's just fine,
Sell the house and run away,
You should have burned it all down,
Along with yourselves,
Rot in hell.

They say you've aged a thousand years,
Your weathered face,
Take your pills and float away,
Now you're fucked and they're gone,
A sunset of eyes behind your back.

Now you're the ones not wanted here,
And that's just fine,
Sell the house and run away,
You should have burned it all down,
Along with yourselves,
Rot in hell.

They say you've aged a thousand years,
Your weathered face,
Take your pills and float away,
Now you're fucked and they're gone,
Alone on your hill.

credits

released December 4, 2020
Written, recored, and mixed by Daniel Koren

Mastering by Jesse Mercury at Monolith Sounds

Photograph by Daniel Koren

license

all rights reserved

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Hidden House Los Angeles, California

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