I'm crawling out from the darkness of my room
I crept from a comatose my body barely knew
In time i've learnt to adjust this sequence
Each step to process I recall through words
spat out in lost comfort, to the shortest tale that ended tall
Is this my midlife?
There's a frequent call
But i'm stuck to a standstill with no force to carry on
It feels like a comatose, but I can't get any kind of sleep
Eighteen wasn't easy, 23 made it worse
A year hung from detached lines and tables turned
I used to wait out in the cold for a passing gaze
or a shot right through the brain
It felt like a comatose, but I can't get any kind of sleep
Someday these connections will break
And we find ourselves waiting to bleed from ink into our pale skins
But we'll end up not feeling a thing
Found this album at a time I was in the habit of having a bad dream about you and me. It's great, the song's great, the band's great, corn dogs are probably mid at best. vincentavatar
Taking cues from Midwestern emo and early ’10 pop punk, this Leeds, UK outfit are full of heart— not to mention hooks. Bandcamp New & Notable Sep 21, 2022