i remember when i used to count the weeks by the marks on your arm is it true every dream gets replaced we place our bets and await results knuckles turning red sheets ceiling staring from our bed but i feel the game is rigged and that your hands hold levers and those levers control pulleys that are pulling my strings and bullying little things like me
i may have but a few emotions
but i know them well
makes me quick to heal
and i don't turn on you on a dime
Members of the Philly punk, experimental, and classical scenes come together for dreamy, Bill Frissell-esque folk improvisations. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 28, 2024