The arrow quakes, in motion - defining wakes, a physic of devotion. So you had to go and live in an unrelenting world - shearing tiny parts from a bigger picture, cheap larks and half-filled pitchers. Easy, the winds caught your stolid heart, fetching fear; one petal, white, curdles in the dark - a final ferment, like days. White wisps of detritus and frames, an ordinal intersection; dispelled, away in walls - installed, by old instances. Sentinel dissuasions – such deterrence; an inference of a cold equation, cowed – the myriad bits of color, fade to grey. Baring all the quiet that the evening kills, the pain and progress - quickly our past blossoms into rage, forbidding solace. Didn’t life resent you, when - in the cracks it left you, then the sun seemed far from day, like a murmur muffled in the fray. Watch the bolt begin its final pass into the echo of distress: Throw it on the flowers, let the whiteness flounder. Let the evening be the nest, another lone projectile’s ruddy rest. The arrow’s spiral, the arrow’s wild - such a longed, forgotten spire, the current lingers. The arrow’s spiraling; the arrow’s wild wings. The exile childishly clings to that once remembered day.
Across their second full-length, the London post-punks offer up thrumming motoriks, industrial tones, and sullen sing-a-longs in abundance. Bandcamp New & Notable Mar 17, 2024
supported by 7 fans who also own “Wine On The Lilies”
Its exquisite sense of order parallels that of a physical theory. Science is the organization of our knowledge in such a way as to command more of nature's hidden potential. Likewise do these notes command our coldbeats in step with our heartbeats. The Human Remains