trouble with paradise Lyrics

Scott Patrick Conrad's heart in a helicopter

Towards Reno, to save some teenager from becoming a ghost like him

Armpit sweat stains on a collared shirt cut open

When sidewalks end and for-sale signs begin

Where your favorite bar is your favorite film a

And the regulars are standing still

The trouble with paradise is the alcohol in twitching twilight

The bumbling, huffing sharpies, behind basement doors and bales of barley

Charred jackets steaming in the rain

Next to photo albums, leaking kegs, cinders wriggling

Through linen sheets, family crests, the cupboards that the moths infest

The bible and the drum, the sickle and his son

Scott Ferguson McRae is wafting through trumpets in Tucson

On rafters above his parents observing a picture show

Armpit sweat stains on his father's shirt unbuttoned

Where teardrops fall, his aching unresolved

When credits crawl and the curtain calls

With regulars standing still

The trouble with paradise is it's televised through twinkling wildfires

Like lullabies or seeping wax, the eyeliner runs while the limbs collapse

Charred axles steaming in the rain

Next to vinyl records, dog collars, heirlooms glistening

Through rubble and rapture, the subtle opening of an aperture

The bible and the drum, the sickle and his son