about
Written and recorded solely by Robert.
lyrics
There's a price for being born again. Some are losing weight to nervous sweat. It's a fact, regardless. We're always flaking off in specks of dust and anyone with counter-tops or darker wooden shelves admits that what we are is a nuisance. That's about as far as it gets. Babies sob, their blankets stuck absorbing all the screams and spit. Last night you laid awake for hours, nothing close to a graceful wreck. Between muffled speech and slurring words and your swelling, aching head, some sound fled to my imagination. I thought I heard you screaming then, "it's true, so true. We're all a step on a creaking, endless set of stairs from losing traction in our souls and sliding to an infinite mess." I believe we're headed nowhere too, but only that which we can't see, and I doubt myself each break of day when the eastern edge gets sick from nights of drinking, lost in space, watching a million people breathe their lasts. What a reason to want a coma to come, but the vomit's such a pretty color. Horizon swells up like a bruise, illuminating another half of humanity and cruel routine. I've peered through curtains, opened doors, begging the sky for sleep but nothing given in return comes close to the amount I need. The next time you pace the same lines, moving around to fight the time, turn off the clock that's beckoning and dance for the time you've left to live. I'm Harry, close to Marion, and we're dancing into spiderwebs with black bodies, transparent wings, and everything will be okay for now and ever for all we know.
credits
from
Winter,
released January 30, 2013
Robert Hamill - Words & Music; Guitars; Vocals; Production
Ayethaw Tun - Quivering guitar solo
license
all rights reserved