The question raised
Then you sky-dived your eyes
As we broke
Not unlike the way grease dries.
Overcame
In a plot without surprise.
Sustained
As reverb in an X's ties.
Can't put away those years
Like discarded tires.
Shove off, set sail, cut rope,
Let your engine work your float
Over the states, the meat,
Forty-eight wrenches one machine.
Like cold grease
Just needs some heat.
Can't help
Seeing coincidence as tape.
Being shook
Violently off a finger of fate.
With her hand
On an ornate
Remote control
Pressing anything.
As she stares at your
Shape from the inside
Of a window used
As a passing mirror.
Like flashing lights
To an epileptic deer.
Check yourself out,
Invent some compliments.
Like any machines gears
Needs a little grease.
This cold grease ain't trash
It just needs some heat.
O, this cold grease Just needs some Heat.
Guitar-wielding duo from Queens, New York, drop atmospheric debut LP, recorded in an ex-bowling alley under a cafe. Bandcamp New & Notable May 25, 2015
Another devastatingly beautiful batch of indie rock confessionals from Ontario singer, producer, and multi-instrumentalist Linnea Siggelkow. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 28, 2024