this is desperate again this is old this is tattered at the edge this blanket has no heat of its own – count stairs to yr head climb the bones of yr home – I stayed in the attic for a year woke up on the carpet yr hair in my beard I hear the secrets in the wood the seam of the night makes the light understood – make bricks from parched lips flood the street with a poem. Come through to me like a key through the laundry tiny seeds evade machines
A churning indie-rock meditation on relationships and personal struggle from the New Jersey band, propelled by powerhouse vocals. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 8, 2020