Critical Mixing
Tweaking, tweaking, tweaking. (I'm talking about the mixes, nothing illegal)
Tweaking, tweaking, tweaking. (I'm talking about the mixes, nothing illegal)
Your eyes were church doors creakin'
My soul was trying to sneak in
Searching for some way to be saved
Now I can hear my aching tires
Still whispering your name
Putting this tune through the machines to make her sound delicious!
Your silence is a razor blade
The only thing I’ve left to hold
I wish you could see all the cuts on my soul
Feel the arms of regret clutching to your ghost
The usual rig, an Orange Rockerverb with a 4X12, and a Pedaltrain full of pedals.