There are times when you open up your mind
And we'll go down to the throngs of our own lives.
We'll then internalize those aerosol pesticides
And get low.
You cough and choke and those buckets full of smoke
Will read: Here Lies Poor Old Mother.
And the dirt upon the grave is the one couldn't save
And how we tried.
I will let you down.
Please don't pick me up.
I don't know if you can see me,
There's a problem with your seeing,
I can't hear you through the screaming.
And we're reading through the lies
It's no wonder how she cried.
And yet further down inside
We know
And they're living day to day
Just expecting this week's pay
And yet be it as it may,
We know
And their pockets full of hope
Seem to keep them all afloat
And the wonders that are grown,
We know.
Blood on your hands is a point that somehow stands
Behind you only mirrors.
Reflecting all your sins, documenting what you did
Long ago.
The light is gone, couple hours before dawn.
It left you just as quickly.
Now it's time for you to heal, and I know it's hard to feel
Feel love.
This Michigan-based trio trip, swirl, and echo their way through 11 songs of psychedelic, surf-tinged, garage rock. Bandcamp New & Notable Sep 27, 2015
Two new songs from the Nashville musician (and drummer in Sad Baxter) reveal a talent for rock hooks and anthemic power pop aesthetics. Bandcamp New & Notable Aug 11, 2022