Christian Eckman

Christian Eckman

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Desperation Refugee Bungalow

Written By: Christian Eckman

when you're so damn tired of you don't know what
when that hole in your heart sinks to the pit of your gut
when these same city streets shrink down to alleyways
when you can't quite breathe, and you can't stand the skin on your face
then call me up, have a sip of what's in my cup
cause I've been through the same
and I know all those ghosts by name

and I got a place that you can go
it's not quite a shack and it's not quite a chateau
they'll keep you safe from all the logic and the drugs
cause they got the next best thing to love
down at the desperation refugee bungalow

they built a wax museum out of all of our fears
with crystal chandeliers tinkling every one of our tears
and bars of sin to hold us in
where remorse and heartache are your only true friends

but if you bust out, just head down the road
it's not quite a shack and not quite a chateau
they'll keep you safe from all the logic and the drugs
cause they got the next best thing to love
down at the desperation refugee bungalow

I've been to hell and back
slippin through the pavement cracks
and I've had my passport stamped
in bathroom stalls, 'neath busted street lamps
but I still can't find no pardon, no peace, no release
and the porter at the door says, "hell, we've seen it all before
we'll hand you a broom and we'll lift up the rug
we'll keep you safe from all the logic and the drugs
cause we got the next best thing to love
here at the desperation refugee bungalow"

Haven / Any Port

Written By: Christian Eckman

I was very badly drunk and quickly going off the rails
when I met you, blowing hot air into dirty, lifeless sails
so I opened up my arms to you
knowing you were waiting with the nails

your scars are like a credit card that I cannot decline
and you are racking up the bill until you're certain you are fine
until you're certain you've found happiness, but I ask you
have you ever thought of mine?

and in the morning mist we sit and listen to the sea
your head upon my shoulder and our hands upon my knee
and every wave that washes 'way the footprints
takes a little piece of me

but eventually the gray gives way to the first ray of the dawn
and like a cloud on april winds you'll soon be drifting on
but that's alright, because after all,
I'm already gone...