Waxahatchee - American Weekend

Waxahatchee - Be good

we don't wanna be lovers, but we'll be good.


It's unclear now what we intend.
We're alone in our own world.
You don't wanna be my boyfriend
and I don't wanna be your girl.
And that, that's a relief.
We'll drink up our grief
and pine for summer
and we'll buy beer to shotgun
and we'll lay in the lawn
and we'll be good.

Now I'm laughing at my boredom,
at my string of failed attempts,
because you think that it's important
and I welcome the sentiment.
And we talk on the phone at night
until it's daylight
and I feel clever
and I hear the slow in your speech.
Yeah, you're half asleep.
Say goodnight.

Now I've got friendships to mend.
I'm selfishly dispossessed.
You don't wanna be my boyfriend
and that's probably for the best
because that, that gets messy
and you will hurt me
or I'll disappear.
So we will drink beer all day
and our guards will give way
and we'll be good.

Waxahatchee - Bathtub


Take my word for it, I'm not worth it.
I ignored you all night and you don't deserve it.
Morning, bathtub, my skin soft and hot.
I was sure you were right, but you're not.
I contemplate my ruined fate.
Someone will hurt me so bad one day.
And you'll resonate or I'll apologize
or maybe I'll make the same mistake twice.
I hide from phonecalls under the warm water.
Malice desists, no it woefully recurs.
And it plays like daytime tv shows. I confuse you.
And I tell you not to love me but I still kiss you when I want to.
And I lament, you're innocent,
but somehow the object of my discontent.
And its fucked up. I let you in
even though I've seen what can happen.

You make a tape.
I receive it in the mail
and I force myself busy.
The diversion will prevail.
And I will swallow all my guilt with little pills and forge my chin up.
And I will only think about it in the morning, in the bathtub.

Waxahatchee - Catfish


Crave, desolate, you dive in, we follow along.
I contrive you with whiskey and Sam Cooke songs
and we lay on our backs, soaking wet
below a static tv set.
Conversation flows, counting shooting stars and catfish,
but I'll never make a wish.

Barefoot, parking lot
getting high in Portland, OR.
We echo 17 and we glue it back and poke fun
and it gets real quiet,
I don't care.
Darting with moonshine, truth or dare
I say just what I'm thinking and second guess instantly
and you laugh at me.

We stick to our slow motion memory.
It's 1 in the morning and 90 degrees
and though now it is hovering darkly over me,
it'll look just like heaven when I get up and leave.
You're a ghost
and I can't breathe.

Waxahatchee - I Think I Love You


It's late.
We are not awake
and I smashed my phone.
I am learning how to be alone.

Resoundingly unpretty girl stares back at me
and I become what everyone's harboring from.
And is it your fault?
No, I think it's my fault.

We digress.
You're inhaling smoke, emotionless,
somewhere on a map,
unaware that I am falling flat.
And you will hurt me.
And I deserve it.

It's late.
You are not awake
and it's nothing.
I want you so bad it's devouring me
and I think I love you,
but you'll never find out.

Waxahatchee - Grass Stain


I don't care.
I'll embrace all of my vices,
and we'll black it out,
or at least slow everything down.
And I'll fish for compliments
and I'll drink until I'm happy
and I'll wonder what you're doing but I won't call.

Our paths split.
It's morning but I still feel it
and we skate around.
Why, our intemperance feels so profound.
And I let you in real slow
and I regret it immediately
and I run away so fast, you fall too deep too easily.

I don't care
if I'm too young to be unhappy
or I recklessly impair
this newfangled proclivity.
And I won't answer my phone
and I'll never leave my bedroom
and I'll avoid you like the plague because I can't give you what you want.
I won't give you what you want.

01. Catfish
02. Grass Stain
03. Rose, 1956
04. American Weekend
05. Michel
06. Be Good
07. Luminary Blake
08. Magic City Wholesale
09. Bathtub
10. I Think I Love You
11. Noccalula