You won’t see an invitation
to my next state of being
or a welcome party
for the meek and weary
I must go away now
attempting the unseen
I’ve seen the void in me
the great undoing
I know the west wind call
I hear the bell that tolls
I dread the hands that Ill hold again
bury the “my”
void the hunger
long drives, gold light
no words, just right
We had a dream to cross the sea
tuck hands
cold rush
breathe deep
blue blush
In the quiet corner of the room
hangs the wreck of looming doom
a moment’s notice
all I need to disappear
to yield-
I’m out of words and withdrawn luck
I have no words
I know the west wind call
I hear the bell that tolls
I dread the hands that I’ll hold again
It's just a banger from start to finish. Old school hardcore in the youth crew tradition. Lyrical positivity. Music that lifts you up. Keep 'em coming. wasclafton
On their debut record, the London hardcore upstarts cross-up mosh-ready fare with melancholic ambient passages, weeping guitars, and virtuosic vocal harmonies, but its romantic veneer is much more complicated than it seems. Bandcamp Album of the Day Jan 30, 2019