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lyrics
White smoke hands
Face drenched in pesticides
Father was a farmer
Took very good care of all of his brides
I was just a boy
Always losing my keys
So, I opened up my chest and placed them inside me
I can walk on water
Is what my father told my brother and me
Snapped his fingers, fell into his hat,
Bubbled up through the T.V. screen, and he screamed
“Goodnight boys! Tonight I’m going to dream in technicolor!”
I hope someday
This haze will begin to fade
My mind will come back a fiddle and sing the days away
These white smoke hands
Will disappear into the screen
And Father Time will come back to get me.
Cacophonous mash of noise, electronic sounds and vocals powered by energetic walls of drums. Listen loud, jump often. Bandcamp New & Notable Jan 28, 2014
Portland shoegaze that plays, as the best representatives of the genre do, with huge, hollow atmosphere against intimate observations. Bandcamp New & Notable Nov 23, 2016