Who am I to say that there is no candyman?
After all, he might not live in a big, bright purple hat.
He might be in the clouds, in the sun, or in the flowers.
The flowers you gave her on her birthday.
There we go up again on the snowy hills of Mammoth
Unaware that the cold won't take a holiday.
Ignorant, infantile, we're still wet behind the ears.
We're running and crying for our mothers.
Clawing and scratching at the others.
And we'll be fine 'cause
Maybe it'll snow one day and I will make
an icy noose to give me life.
Maybe when we're not so scared of making change.
To be another helpless time.
Talk with the mirror, I'll be my own saint tonight.
Not afraid of needles, it's the blood that freaks me out.
Cavities caress your smile in sterile tonic brilliance.
Matriarch of the past has come to save us all.
It's not like we're getting what we paid for.
Carousels and poppy seeds have nothing on your light.
Living in times of plenty yet you haven't had
A decent glass of water in only God knows when.
We're scared of not knowing where we're headed.
A person on papers that were shredded.
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