The Only Torn-Up Boy in New York

Inspired by being torn-up in the face of my twenties
And an iconic poster on my childhood bedroom wall.

Written and performed by Dylan Owen
Produced by Skinny Atlas
Music by Skinny Atlas, Dylan Owen
Background vocals by Regina Zaremba
Electric guitar played by Tommy McCormick
Recorded at Stand Up Sound by Ernesto Valenzuela
Mixed by Billy Centenaro
Mastered by Chris Gehringer

Coming to you live from the bottom of a heavy heart
Live from the window of a broken home
Live from the memories that fell apart
Live from the lines on my soul

I’m coming to you live from the medicine drawers
I'm still refilling
Live from the parking lot floors we kissed as children
Live from the saints of the summer you wouldn't visit
Who remind you of your childhood friends who went missing

I don't doubt this
But here's to staying grounded more
We took a road trip to spread the ashes out this fall
And met the pretty poet prophets of the outlet malls
Who said a big idea can't come out of a town this small?
I told you New York
I'm sorry to insult you New York
But there were times where I forgot how well I know you New York
And one too many nights I waited up for closure New York
The only living boy who still lives at home in New York
I wrote you New York, I’m sorry for nothing, you never wrote back
All I wanted was an acknowledgement of my vocab
And all I’ve grown past lays still like lovers’ fields
I sent my heart out in a package, but that address wasn't real

Welcome to the season of getting sick to your stomach
You need something to believe in — believe me — or you'll be leaving soon
You can be deceived by the sweet seas of what’s seizing us
Or come and see the scenes from the cheap seats where we see em from...

Live from the bottom of a heavy heart
Live from the window of a broken home
Live from the memories that fell apart
Live from the graffitied fence protecting my soul

Live from the adult lessons that I learned in adolescence
How to have a falling out and ride that avalanche forever
Live from the cross country roads of that adventure
Grief tore my face apart, now I'm trying to put it back together
Live from the junk front yards that’ll never find salvage
Live from the holes in our stories we'll never climb out of
I'm a blackout poet, I drink and fight first
Till I can't see anything besides the right words

Yeah and
Suddenly I'm not alone
It feels like the entire tristate is on my collarbone
Watching headlights pass
Like the cards I'm dealt
And the cars on the highway look like cosmo belts
And everything seems fine
Everything stands still
And if the sky comes crashing down
Then this can't be real
And maybe none of what I ever thought was
So here I am
Another person torn up

This is how it feels to start something over
And dream under a Simon and Garfunkel poster
We all look for closure and get lost on our course
Now it feels like I'm the only living boy in New York
This is how it feels to start something over
And dream under a Simon and Garfunkel poster
We all look for closure and get lost on our course
Now it feels like I'm the only living boy
In New York