Bad Moves – Local Radio (2020) | Track profile | Dork

Bad Moves – Local Radio (2020) | Track profile | Dork

Lyrics

Local Radio

[Verse 1]

On one enduring July 4th I found myself dependent

Working in service in the capital

I’d heard the burnout rate was off the charts I should have guessed it

I ran into it like a dead end though

I talked some shit about the job and I'm surprised with how it ended

Got interviewed on local radio

[Chorus]

And they said “Who bites the hand when the hand feeds you?”

They're passing out scraps, you can hardly believe

You'd be picking up tabs for some nouveau riche

Who'd be making in an hour what you make in a week

Trading shifts with the kids just getting started

And the kids spinning their wheels into their 40s, yeah

[Verse 2]

I wanted more, I wanted more than I was getting

I wanted more from my relationships

I wanted sleep, I wanted peace, I wanted ease, I couldn't get it

I couldn't find a way to pay for it

I dreamed of sleeping aids and counted days as they descended

I'd grit and smile and bear the weight of it

[Bridge]

I'd allow myself a modicum of self destruction

A microdosed breakdown, semi-dysfunction

I'd be riding around the city to the sound of combustion

While the Lady of the Harbor was out drinking in public

She'd been pacing back and forth under winds of destruction

Taking swigs from a flask and selling SIM cards or something

While the Independence Day heat was getting me wired

I said “I just wanna see the city on fire”

And that patriotic thought tangled up the transmission

An anonymous voice on the affiliate station

[Chorus]

Singing “Who bites the hand when the hand feeds you?”

They're passing out scraps and you start to believe

Like you're lucky to have all the scraps that you’re eating

While you're climbing your way to the top of the scrap heap

Tell me who bites the hand when the hand feeds you

Who bites the hand? I guess you got to believe

You got to open your eyes to all the ways that they bleed you

While they're buying your life up in cheap little pieces, oh

[Verse 3]

I wanted more, I wanted more than I was getting

I wanted more, I hit a dead end though

I wanted sleep, I counted sheep, I couldn’t breathe, I didn’t get it

My head was ringing like a telephone

My speech was slurred from shattered nerves and nights up with a headache

They sunk in steady like a status quo

I took the job and what I got was just some paid-off credit

And interviewed on local radio

Lyrics provided by LRCLIB

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