Biography:
The Milk Carton Kids is an American indie folk duo from Eagle Rock, California, United States, consisting of singers and guitarists Kenneth Pattengale and Joey Ryan, who formed the group in early 2011.
A performance by The Milk Carton Kids is a quiet and intricate affair. The duo have enjoyed intently listening audiences across the country and abroad in their respective solo careers, but an even greater sense of urgency and demand of attention is palpable now that they've come together as The Milk Carton Kids.
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Other songs:
- Michigan
- A Sea Of Roses
- All The Things
- As It Must Be
- Asheville Skies
- Big Time
- Broken Headlights
- Freedom
- Getaway
- Girls Gather Round
- Hear Them Loud
- Heaven
- Honey Honey
- Hope Of A Lifetime
- I Still Want A Little More
- Lake Skaneateles
- Laredo
- Like A Cloak
- Maybe Its Time
- Memoires Of An Owned Dog
- Memphis
- Milk Carton Kid
- Monterey
- New York
- No Hammer To Hold
- Nothing Is Real
- On The Mend
- One Goodbye
- Permanent
- Poison Tree
- Promised Land
- Queen Jane
- Retrospect
- Rock Roller
- Secret Of The Stars
- Secrets Of The Stars
- Shooting Shadows
- Sing Sparrow Sing
- Snake Eyes
- Stealing Romance
- The Ash And Clay
- The Jewel Of June
- There By Your Side
- Trouble In These Parts
- Undress The World
- Whisper In Her Ear
- Years Gone By
- Younger Years
Four years of hard work!This month of May we celebrated four years on the air. We continue working on the dissemination of this wonderful instrument, thank you for participating in our story!
Bm F#m
Good God, is it November?
Em Bm
The leaves burn auburn red
G D
The Asheville skies and timber
F#
Are holding on to it
Bm F#m
But I cannot remember
Em Bm
That fleeting hopeful song
G D
That rose of our September
F#
My word, what have we done?
G E
I'd love nothing more than to cover my face
A F# Bm
Forget who I am and get out of this place
G D
Pretend to be somebody other than me
F#
And go on living that way
Bm A D G
Till all the dreams that I had in mind
Bm A D G
Come back to me by next year this time
A F# Bm
Tell me whatever became of what I left behind
During Solo : Bm F#m Em Bm G D F#
Bm F#m
Could hope have sprung eternal
Em Bm
On darkened, dreary roads?
G D
The heart that beats nocturnal
F#
Knows not where it goes
Bm F#m
We listen for the signal
Em Bm
To raise the dirt again
G D
Our livelihood is equal
F#
To the air that breathes us in
G E
I'd welcome you home just to turn you away
A F# Bm
Shuffle the cards by the light of the day
G D
Pretend that the worst of it got left behind
F#
And go on living that way
Bm A D G
Till all the dreams we left in our wake
Bm A D G
Come back to me as the joy we forsake
A F# Bm
Tell me whatever is burning the fires we made
[Outro]:
Bm F#m Em Bm G D F#
G E A F# Bm G D F#
Bm A D G E A F# Bm
Am G D
Good God, is it November?
Em Bm
The leaves burn auburn red
G D
The Asheville skies and timber
F#
Are holding on to it
Bm F#m
But I cannot remember
Em Bm
That fleeting hopeful song
G D
That rose of our September
F#
My word, what have we done?
G E
I'd love nothing more than to cover my face
A F# Bm
Forget who I am and get out of this place
G D
Pretend to be somebody other than me
F#
And go on living that way
Bm A D G
Till all the dreams that I had in mind
Bm A D G
Come back to me by next year this time
A F# Bm
Tell me whatever became of what I left behind
During Solo : Bm F#m Em Bm G D F#
Bm F#m
Could hope have sprung eternal
Em Bm
On darkened, dreary roads?
G D
The heart that beats nocturnal
F#
Knows not where it goes
Bm F#m
We listen for the signal
Em Bm
To raise the dirt again
G D
Our livelihood is equal
F#
To the air that breathes us in
G E
I'd welcome you home just to turn you away
A F# Bm
Shuffle the cards by the light of the day
G D
Pretend that the worst of it got left behind
F#
And go on living that way
Bm A D G
Till all the dreams we left in our wake
Bm A D G
Come back to me as the joy we forsake
A F# Bm
Tell me whatever is burning the fires we made
[Outro]:
Bm F#m Em Bm G D F#
G E A F# Bm G D F#
Bm A D G E A F# Bm
Am G D
The Moldy Peache (...)
The Monkees
The Moody Blues
The Morning Bend (...)
The Morning Of