If we're all victors or victims of circumstance,
Hear the cries of those partial to romance;
They're all searching for purpose, for substance.
So I turn to my substance of choice.
She's the Rolls-Royce of waitresses here
In this sorrower's watering hole.
We don't have much but, god, do we have soul.
Made a martyr of my personality
So she'll come and she'll sit down
And try to convert me.
Her god sounds like an angry curmudgeon,
And the morning, it came and it bludgeoned.
So I thought I'd take stock of my assets,
But was startled by their sudden absence;
Not loyal to much but my habits.
But by god things have been worse;
Not hitching rides inside Her hearse;
A slight rattle in my change purse.
Still a cold pint on this cold winter's afternoon.
Let nihilism overtake malaise
And we'll howl wild at the moon.
My school appointed confident calls me an "existential student"
That might be the nicest thing in a while I've heard.
Cause when you're trying to see a point in thinking there's a point,
The alternative sounds so much fucking worse.
Oh Manitoba! Hold me close cause I've been feeling like a ghost.
I miss your particular brand of suffering.
Oh Northern coast! Let's raise a toast!
That place was gnawing at my throat.
I hope you'll hop aboard that train wreck again.
Epitaph Records will be matching all pre-orders of “Always Foreign” with a donation to The Immigrant Defense Project. Bandcamp New & Notable Aug 28, 2017
Grab your copy here of their second album, in all its epic, atmospheric, indie glory - before it's available anywhere else. Bandcamp New & Notable Sep 22, 2015