Broken arms and stoned regrets,
lost weeks writing on a wall,
a giant picture of a human tooth.
Part of another life.
At the arse-end of the rainbow
there's no weekend apocalypse.
So put it all into capitals
and let's go and talk to the dead.
It feels older and more precise,
as cold as a baillif's soul.
A tiny skull made of titanium.
Part of another life.
At the arse-end of the rainbow
there's no weekend apocalypse.
So put it all into capitals
and let's go and talk to the dead.
First you're born,
then it's downhill.
You learn what they tell you,
and you work and work and work without thinking.
And you drink.
And then, when you're too tired for anymore,
they let you die
At the arse-end of the rainbow
there's no weekend apocalypse.
So put it all into capitals
and let's go and talk to the dead.
Smooth, sophisticated pop with neoclassical flourishes from the Berlin-based duo of Fabian Till and Birk Buttcherey. Bandcamp New & Notable May 2, 2024