Lyrics

We are distortion We are full hearts We are empty rooms beyond redemption We are not pure We are routine Don't crowd the machine Write, rehearse, record, rehearse, perform, return, repeat My mother's records found me Hungry I devoured every tune I still dream of distant seas when I hear her sing the blues She said "we are what we listen to" You are my home I am at peace My heart rate slows So music man, you pack your bags Abuse yourself You sell your soul til you make sure that you come home You come home safe My mother's records had me dreaming of a life out on the road A suitcase and guitar on exchange for a real home We are what we listen to We are, we are My heart sings out For only the lonely Or blue eyes crying in the rain When I heard Tom sing The green grass of home I knew I was home My mother's records found me Hungry I devoured every tune I still dream of distant seas when I hear her sing the blues She said "we are what we listen to" We are, we are My heart sings out For only the lonely Or blue eyes crying in the rain When I heard tom sing The green grass of home I knew I was home I knew I was home We are what we listen to We are what we listen to We are what we listen to We are what we listen to We are, we are She sang the blues