You lost your wallet in the rain of the biggest storm we’d had in over 30 years.
The water spilled through the doors and we just sat knee deep in the puddles in your car.
Before we opened the windows and swam out like the Last Chance Gas Station parking lot was a swimming pool,
And we spilled like cooking oil into each other's arms.
This is the first time that I spoke today.
And I’ve been wearing the same clothes for a few days.
I’m having a hard time eating,
And I don’t know, I’m just feeling strange.
Instant K.O., okay?
You’re a toaster oven pizza.
And I’m damn glad to meet ya.
You’re like some spring anesthesia.
But I know I’ll never be that for you.
All the colors lie in waiting.
Some fun and some frustrating.
You say it’s getting aggravating,
That I’m not fully here.
This is the first time I left the house this week.
I don’t know what’s going on with me.
It’s something that apparently everyone else can see.
That I’m not fully here.
Am I awake or am I still dreaming?
Walking around or am I still sleeping?
I’m not really here.
Am I singing or am I just screaming?
Falling in love or am I just scheming?
I’m not really here.
The sadness in my skull:
I I I I I I I I don’t want to tell you what I’m thinking about,
‘Cause if I do then
I I I I I I I I’m scared that you won’t know what I’m talking about.
It’s fun but it’s frustrating.
It’s starting to get aggravating that
I’m not really here.
But you’re not really here.
But I’m not really here.
It’s like this:
You’re the Sno-Caps, long lash,
Found you at the pharmacy.
Vitamins and jujubes,
This distance is fucking killing me.
It’s Twizzlers in the ambulance.
It’s M&M’s and abstinence.
Reese’s Pieces, Almond Joy,
Forthcoming thoughts or being coy?
It’s Fireballs at traffic jams,
Cow Tales. Hold hands.
Or honey in the back row,
And ice cream when the sun gets low.
Crunch bars in the crystal skull.
You’re having fun. I’m getting dull.
Insomnia, anxiety,
And whatever gender I can’t be.
It’s burnt sugar in the trash can,
And a midnight rental moving van.
Quickly fading attention spans
And working off of different plans.
It’s Fun Dip, Pixie Sticks,
Speech bubbles made of cake mix.
Last kiss before I hit the bricks.
Ketchup blood French Fry crucifix.
Make a spreadsheet in the darkness.
Think really hard about getting your shit together,
So you can be more impressive or whatever.
Hang on to the feeling, pour it over a campfire, and breathe it in forever.
Put all of your stories out into the ether.
Be less of a panic and more of a sleeper.
Is this real or am I still dreaming?
Lost in a cloud yet looking for meaning.
I’m not really here.
Want to whisper to you, but I feel like I’m screaming,
Flailing around and lost in unmeaning.
I think I’m not really here.
The sadness in my skull:
I I I I I I I I want to tell you everything I’m thinking about,
But if I do then
I I I I I I I I’m scared that you’ll be freaked out by what I’m on about.
It’s fun and it’s frustrating.
You say it’s getting aggravating that
I can’t decide if I’m okay or if I need to just shut up and then stop.
Epitaph Records will be matching all pre-orders of “Always Foreign” with a donation to The Immigrant Defense Project. Bandcamp New & Notable Aug 28, 2017
Grab your copy here of their second album, in all its epic, atmospheric, indie glory - before it's available anywhere else. Bandcamp New & Notable Sep 22, 2015
