Pulp Mill from Aluminum 6 by ALUMINUM 6

A sea of North Face jackets and Christmas Lights on Main -
And someone’s Creedence karaoke must have cursed us with the rain.
You grind your jaw to pieces on mystery cocaine,
And your smile is autopilot but your eyes are flashing pain.

And you wish you could see her but you’ll never blast that far,
And there’s a stench from the pulp mill - it lets you know where you still are.

We’ve got lawyers sipping milk stouts - nothing hits the same no more,
I just leave the punchline hanging - but you’ve heard that one before.
An old wound going septic - another vice becomes routine.
And there’s a tan line on your finger where you used to wear a ring.

And a DJ calls your name out and you sing her favorite song,
And the stench from that pulp mill lets you know where you belong.

• Rock
• Rock Hill