Penning an image in condensation
Displacing water, artistic evaporation
I'm running down your fingers to a place I don't believe in
Cropping your circles, a picture I'm never seen in
I feel pulses pumping faster
I hear footsteps splat on plaster
My knees shaking ever after
Your hands still wringing out my answer
And everything I've ever seen drip dries off of me and onto the tile that you slipped on when i was still playing with soap at 19.
I know I'm better not to dwell but I'd rather make a hell that I can breathe in
Swirling fire in my lungs, I guess my feet don't decide when I'm leaving
I remember tears from sprinklers passed
Stealing baths from blades of grass
Head down, the pistons pump a white glow
Find me, I'm the mist at your window
The sun is losing it's patience over your heavy skied destination
You're shining through the glass while I'm spinning in your ceiling light
The sun is spotting while I hide inside
Singe the sand to collapse above me
Spinning in your ceiling light
Swinging on your ceiling light
Puking in your ceiling light
It's alright.
This New Zealand group have a sweet glaze and an underlying toothiness that would have fit right in on mid-’90s alt-rock radio. Bandcamp New & Notable Oct 1, 2019