A man who sits alone, friends few and far between.
Withdrawn from the light, unheard and unseen.
And the darkness shines too bright, and it fractures the light.
No skills to propose, no trade to suggest.
A song in your head, a song in your chest.
But the grind is dead and bare, there’s a blight in the air.
You’re spinning like a carousel; your eyes are burning in the light.
Like coins in the bottom of a well, your offerings are drowning in plain sight.
You sift through the demons, lighting candles in the dark.
But there are pulpits on your shoulders, just like platforms for dead hearts.
The days disappear before they are conceived.
Hours fly and you’ve erased all you have achieved.
And you hope for some timely repairs, because it’s time to crawl the stairs.
You’re dead to the world, but not for long enough.
You break the optic seal with a push and a shove.
And you breathe another breath, and you’re closer to your death.
You’re spinning like a carousel; your eyes are burning in the light.
Like coins in the bottom of a well, your offerings are drowning in plain sight.
You sift through the demons, lighting candles in the dark.
But there are pulpits on your shoulders, just like platforms for dead hearts.
Whoever said that silence is golden, was never given hysteria to roll in.
Whatever chances that you could be taking are enduring the life you are making.
A man who sits alone, friends few and far between.
Withdrawn from the light, unheard and unseen.
And the darkness shines too bright, and it fractures the light.
An album of songs created with a late friend of mine, released in his memory. All proceeds with be donated to CRY (Cardiac Risk in the Young) Joe Bailey
The Long Island metal band's third album etches arena-sized hooks into their jagged compositions, deftly balancing experimental and poppy inclinations. Bandcamp Album of the Day May 12, 2022