These hands are tied, yours straight to mine and it digs a trench around my wrist.
Its hard to laugh with a mouth of glass,
a shard for every cold dead kiss.
Lynch these hands because I can’t stand the way they cling to you.
I need some kind of fix,
I need some kind of fix,
How can I heal when,
I’m just so damn sick.
Run, run, until I am just a line,
A foot note in your mind of where you’ve been.
Young love is but a jagged edge,
The part of what is left of my everything.
The post-hardcore band’s latest is a reflection on time, memory, death, and grief—and is their dreamiest material to date. Bandcamp Album of the Day Mar 22, 2019