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Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album
Includes unlimited streaming of Familiar Fevers
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lyrics
How long has it been since I knew you well? Since we took it all to town and made our way out on the limb? How long has it been? And still, I’d know you anywhere. But I’m walking in silhouettes, laying low - cause in the whispers, I hear the marauders riding south. Crack the sky; tear the angels down. The headless knaves are marching through the ruins of forgotten towns. Cast your bayonets. Hang ‘em high, and let go like you mean it. We are what we decide, so square off, and let’s get even. In the crosshairs, our fair city lies trembling at the barrel’s end. Tear up the floorboards; crash the chandeliers, cause it’s not home without you here.
When we were all stealing whiskey and staying out late, sneaking down to the river to walk the tracks and hear the ghost trains. Since you put me out, I’ve laid for days here on your doorstep. It’s already gone, but I swear we’re gonna make it back. I hope it’s golden where you are. I hope you know I’ll be here waiting. If I live to grow old, I’ll still be searching every face. Run past the end, past the night. Make me believe this one last time. I will pull you from your grave and hold you till you start awake. Scream it out; show your scars, and all the terror in your heart. If I live through these days, I’ll still be searching for your face.
We are the lost ones, wrecked and shameless, the ones they said would never make it. Swear to me, you’ll never doubt. We’ll meet again. We’ll make it out. They call it the wrong side of the tracks, cause the good guys ain’t good at that. Call it in the air, a lucky six. Now, the devil’s playing parlor tricks. Play the odds. Play it close. Play the old time songs we know where the piano trips and the old folks say, “Don’t let a good one get away.” Last call. Make it count. The barroom brawl is breaking out. We take our whiskey laced with venom. Spitting teeth, we ain’t fit for heaven. Out the door, steal away to the last place where we once felt safe. We’ll drive straight through into the morning. They’re half a day behind and gaining. Steal away across the border, and scatter us along the shoreline. Lay it down. This home’s a wasteland. Last call. We’re all forsaken.
Sparkling synthpop with an emphasis on high-wattage chords and the kind of melodies that burrow themselves deep in the brain. Bandcamp New & Notable Dec 1, 2023
