Four walls built to impress those who will never even walk through the door,
There's photos in the house of the people who live in the house, and they say
"Let's view our reflections inside a photo frame, thats how we looked and we'll never never look the same"
Four walls built for two fake lovers with only three rooms,
They lay down as he submerged his nose into her hair only to die of aerosol fumes
Two sleeves sown to impress those who only even care to see you without the on,
and the lights will go off and on, and the lights will go off and on,
and everybody will look up to the advertisements in the sky and they'll say
"oh, why'd you have to tell us such a lie, why'd you have to tell us such a cold lie?"
You'll learn to make molehills out of your mountains, and treasure out of your trash, and you'll realize the silly concept of cash/cats,
You'll laugh and smile over spilt milk, and you'll probably just kill one bird with one stone at a time,
but,
all the bleach will seep into your hair follicles and you'll grow old, you'll grow old,
and even if I cold explain this any better,
well I still couldn't scratch the surface to you
I still couldn't scratch the surface to you.
Noisy Siberian post-punk with mathcore's sense of inventive tempo and vocals that nearly howl with urgent insistence. Bandcamp New & Notable Feb 27, 2023