As my clocks smallest needle
does it’s business of circling
I am loitering for some passion
and dedication to jump out of me
Hope for a hint of some evening
or an event to buzz at me
run my fingers through the empty groove
that held a thing defining me.
How I feel i’ve been demoted
to a microphone thats open
in some night place left unattended
like a dry aquarium at a yard sale.
As our star leaks it’s last light
not to turn off but to leave,
I am sinking at it’s same pace,
no flash could capture it’s sheen.
Then some democratic cupid
convinces me that I tried
to engage every loving thought
I convinced myself I implied.
Why does it feel so bad and good
to waste free time given to me?
With the mantra “it will happen.”
Hoping it’s the one that finds me.
So time and space are the same thing
and we’re never not moving.
Where does it come from this stillness
in my way of growing?
I hear and sense it’s importance,
the clock winning the staring game.
I wish that it’s small hands could push me
and sway me into some change.
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