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.
Dreamy indie rock a la Duster/Sparklehorse with interesting with dynamic shifts and subtle hooks to keep things moving along. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 23, 2024