Sometimes I can still smell you on my clothes. I can feel your warmth.
I help you reanimate, I help you form.
I piece you together, from old photos and articles of clothing. I take you like potion or poison, in milligrams or ounces- how ever I can get it.
I feel you next to me when the rain slips through my sun roof-- when my seat belt is too hot--when there's snow between my toes, because my boots were too much work to just put on.
I feel you freezing in my blood.
And I'm far to slow to touch you in my dreams.
She keeps a trunk. Brown with tweed and rich tanned leather.
Photographs, of her- her secret lover, their secret letters.
I study shaky writing until I knew how to be just like him.
I learned to speak with someone else's lips-
So who are we, really, when we kiss.
I watched her cling to a dying romance-
It's fresh corpse still warm.
Old photos of them, post cards,-
Just like ours-
There's a house out by the water.
Where swans swim through silver mist.
The door hinges creek just like your wrists.
I visit it still, sometimes.
I picture us coming and going-
But mostly I'm alone.-
Close the curtains.
Because shadows show so dark on these pale pink walls- and I'm skittish when I'm here alone.
I keep the past in these scarlet painted cubbards.
I hide beneath the carpet, stained to prove I suffered.
I curse you as im dying for the gray hair.
Floodlights through the curtain, where your dress still dries.
A silver glow- a passing shadow.
I cursed you, because no one, mixed colors like you do.
lyrics
Sometimes I can still smell you on my clothes. I can feel your warmth.
I help you reanimate, I help you form.
I piece you together, from old photos and articles of clothing. I take you like potion or poison, in milligrams or ounces- how ever I can get it.
I feel you next to me when the rain slips through my sun roof-- when my seat belt is too hot--when there's snow between my toes, because my boots were too much work to just put on.
I feel you freezing in my blood.
And I'm far to slow to touch you in my dreams.
She keeps a trunk. Brown with tweed and rich tanned leather.
Photographs, of her- her secret lover, their secret letters.
I study shaky writing until I knew how to be just like him.
I learned to speak with someone else's lips-
So who are we, really, when we kiss.
I watched her cling to a dying romance-
It's fresh corpse still warm.
Old photos of them, post cards,-
Just like ours-
There's a house out by the water.
Where swans swim through silver mist.
The door hinges creek just like your wrists.
I visit it still, sometimes.
I picture us coming and going-
But mostly I'm alone.-
Close the curtains.
Because shadows show so dark on these pale pink walls- and I'm skittish when I'm here alone.
I keep the past in these scarlet painted cubbards.
I hide beneath the carpet, stained to prove I suffered.
I curse you as im dying for the gray hair.
Floodlights through the curtain, where your dress still dries.
A silver glow- a passing shadow.
I cursed you, because no one, mixed colors like you do.
supported by 4 fans who also own “11. MEMORY HOST”
a bud put me onto this a few months back and i'm obsessed—my favourite kind of screamo. mathy, melodic, freaky, tender, and (above all) passionate. unreal release from a band i wish i could see live kai
The mix of shoegaze, punk, and noise from this Seattle band is notable for its urgency and bright, foregrounded vocals. Bandcamp New & Notable Nov 9, 2023
An introspective record that fuses post-rock, shoegaze and ambient synth patches into a seamless array of shimmering soundscapes. Bandcamp New & Notable Jan 26, 2023
