All these things mean all to me
The smell of her lips
The strength of a bliss
The sun ray reflecting on the glass
The tears of my wine
the shout of this woman
The graveyard of my senses isn’t born yet
And I’m raising my eyes to the sky
But I don’t pray, I won’t pray
There are these people running through the street
I don’t ever see one, I am
The light off of a blink
I sometimes feel so small
I don’t want to go quick
This is how it has to be
Not as it should
The remembrance of what we said
will tear us apart from what we’re doing now
Someone told me yesterday
“I regret”
And I ask myself again,
how human is able
to feel like a small hurt animal
BUFFTUCK - get yer beef bucked in rough luck.
This one's gratis if you want the sequencer of Tangerine Dream to bang a teapot on your open silverware drawer! thenewspaper
(Ex-Giddy Motors, for those of you to whom that means something.)
Amazingly complicated but still catchy. I'd call it math rock but it has way too much guts and spit for that; it's precise but also filthy. The vocals are completely unhinged. I love this band. Really hoping they come to the US on tour sometime soon. Mike Gintz
the swimming, the swimming, the swimming, the swimming, the swimming, the swimming, the swimming, the swimming, the swimming, the swimming, the swimming, the swimming, the swimming, the swimming, the swimming, the sinking. Stavros Niteros