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1.
It follows close behind clinging near in my shadow, just over my shoulder. Death stalks me and wears a cloak of all my regrets to relive over and over. The blood on my hands torments me like the words I should have said and when I should have said them. Come next snowfall I hope that this all makes sense - One day I'll have to apologize - The sadness in my heart, and the hell I'm living in - But when will that day come? What should I live for? I hope that this heartache strikes a chord. I wish that I could say... What could I live for? I don't think I can do this anymore. ...I'm so sorry everyday, everyday, everyday.
2.
Eventually every colour fades. Lacking a catalyst; a gradual change for the worse. Since the loss of myself, and having lost all else, now I know for sure that we aren't what we once were anymore. The turpentine's fast acting and it's taking with it what I thought I would always have to define myself - hard to remember my old self. The turpentine's fast acting and it's taking with it what I thought would always have to define myself - oh God, I'm someone else. You're turpentine; efficient and effective. Stripping me down, stripping me bare. You're turpentine. I cannot feel this mask that conceals my suffering. In silence while these moments are on repeat. I remember a time your smile shining and leaving impressions on my skin. You're an imbalance of chemicals - a mess of electrical impulse - and I'm calculated. It shouldn't come as a surprise to you or me that this is the way things had to be. I long for my reflection in your eyes - the image of someone with purpose and still chemically balanced. I'm looking in the mirror and I don't like what I see. and that's because of you. But now everyday is the same. Crushing my heart in my hands just to feel anything. Just to feel anything at all. How am I supposed to stay strong when I've never been? And I'm wondering what comes...
3.
...next. I can clearly recall. Recklessly, I salted the earth around my heart. I spread myself so thin over so many years. Finding purpose. A heart warm enough. Living in recluse has embraced me with such comfort. Wasted years. Pointless tears. Maybe I'm better off? I thought I was better off. I did not expect a single thing to grow in a soil such as this. But there you are taking root and I'm glad that I was wrong. I sink in shallow, hollow home, drowning in myself. I never would have thought I'd find love in someone else.

about

Previously unreleased.
All lifetime proceeds of this EP will be donated to actiondignity.org & blackyouth.ca
Black Lives Matter
ACAB

credits

released June 14, 2020

Mike - Guitar
Tevin - Drums and Vocals
Zach - Bass and Vocals

Recorded and Mixed by Clay Francis
Mastered by Adam Mountford
Album Art by Kevin Stebner

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You Take The Bus When You're Dead Calgary, Alberta

No longer a band sorry. Check out some of us in "Still There"

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