Aromas of damp dust are filling up my domicile.
That’s what happens every time I haven’t acted silly in a while.
Staring at the sky.
One part black.
One part lime.
The same shade of green as the car that Kenny Irwin died in.
So what’s the point of seeking out a visually stimulating lightning storm?
I’ve already been struck once
And now I’m just eroding to that flat black.
A white silhouette on the curb across the street.
Is this a metaphor for the empty extension of a one, true me?
Erudite chamber pop that hearkens back to the elegant and experimental production of the 1960s, swinging from melancholia to playfulness. Bandcamp New & Notable May 13, 2016