1. |
Summer Salt
04:40
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Standing on the coast I never thought that we could feel this distant
While gathering the smoke, dismissed our battles, called it off as treason
Well, you say your guilt is revealing,
The covered cracks on the ceiling.
While summer waits for no reason
Much less the salt of the season.
Tie a tighter rope.
The kind of tethered thoughts my soul resists,
I fought it long ago, but now the feelings sit covered in leeches.
Well it's no longer like december
Not much like I remember
My memories lost in the summers.
Of sisters fathers and mothers.
You say your guilt is revealing,
The covered cracks on the ceiling.
While summer waits for no reason
Much less the salt of the season.
Now I can see, the silence we breed and in between.
From the mindful misery to which we concede everything.
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2. |
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We spoke through a window glazed with drops of morning dew.
I went through those old songs I wrote.
I decided, I wrote them for you.
Our eyes met,
You back-stepped.
I could not reach the note you sang in my head.
Don't let go,
Help me grow.
The banks I need to keep us between in the flow
We could both see what we'd come to
We both knew, you deserved better than me
So for years now, I've been missing
A piece of me
and all of you
Settle down, I've heard enough, of what you speak of.
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3. |
Lenore
05:18
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Lenore woke up beside her bed
The results of twist and turns throughout the night, and fits from thoughts unsaid
wondering what her last dream meant
strips of dirty burgundy
curtains wrapped around her head
She closed her eyes so she could see
All that she knew she was and all she knew that she would never be
Her room had grown so very small
The light had left and hung itself on wires in the hall
She paced the floor around her flat, seeking more than evidence that all she wants is all she had.
She found a note somebody left
with all the words crossed out and a picture of a sinking shipped condemned.
All the mates had swam to shore.
She felt like she was lost at sea, just left with anchor-iron oars.
No one to blame but her alone.
And desperate calloused thoughts, brought to her by her own private ghosts.
O, this final day, she never knew it, she never knew just what she'd say
and O, this rising tide, it will fall, it will fall.
Don't stop, swim hard, let the current take you down.
Rise up like a once-soft angry storm cloud that you once were.
Well the rains picked up and the thunders loud, but the lightning lights up the walls of smoke and sound that
Surround you.
There's an eye to this storm but it's further now than it once was,
But that's not how we fix these things, and I can't shield you now.
From the silent whispers in the lonely deep while all thirteen mothers in their desperate sleep
cry out "Abba God, raise the weak, before the monsoon season climbs her peak"
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O Cara Montreal, Québec
post-alt-indie-folk-doom-gaze-core
Timothy Bryan
Ryan Simunic
Julien Levesque
Josiah McCooeye
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