The whole world is out of reach
I keep dead weight tied to my seat
I try to love I try to sleep.
But at night I see these things
have lovely friends that empty me
I drink and pray for everything.
I'm growing old,
Get back to the gold.
I color every word to death
I believe every sickened breath
the human heart is made for this
Sometimes I think of bleeding out
finding God in a hotel
the truth is fucking love is hell
Recorded on the Grecian isle of Hydra, this is blissed-out psych pop with stacked falsetto harmonies and luscious arrangements. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 9, 2023
Two dozen 12-string acoustic improvisations that feel undeniably haunting, like lost transmissions from ancient Appalachia, rediscovered. Bandcamp New & Notable Oct 17, 2022