When I am walking home I see the trees,
the leaves turn into corpses of the spring.
I see the glaring lights of my tv.
It means nothing at all, nothing to me.
His hair is running wild,
but not for me.
Our minds are flesh and blood,
but he is clean.
How many years of earth under my feet
Before I'm worth the dirt under my feet.
Languid smoke, I will go
through the wind, through the snow
But if you won't, I don't know
If you won't, I don't know.
This creative San Francisco guitar band melds trip hop, krautrock, My Bloody Valentine-esque noise, and jangle pop hooks. Bandcamp New & Notable Mar 19, 2024