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1.
Meet me in the alleyway We can go where no one sees Hold me down deeper ‘Till my face goes weak I don’t wanna be free That kinda talk is cheap I don’t wanna be free That kinda talk doesn’t feed the family Meet in the alleyway We can pop rocks away White lines in front of me Gonna blow where I see I don’t wanna be free That kinda talk is cheap I don’t wanna be free That kinda talk doesn’t feed the family I don’t wanna be free I’m gonna scrape the inside of me I don’t wanna be free I wanna be brought to my knees I don’t wanna be free That kinda talk is cheap
2.
I think I’m ready to die I can’t wait, what lies on the other side? Do you think we’ll walk through halls Of memories and then we’ll fall You can bend shapes and color on your own While my head is stuck in a blatant moan You speak in tongues with metal and bone While my heart is never going home, oh Home
3.
When I grow up I’ll be a selfish man Cut off from all my friends When I grow up I wanna cast a stone Wash off blood that ain’t my own Cinderblock, oh cinderblock The knots tied and it’s ready to drop Cinderblock, oh cinderblock Hands held high so the fall don’t stop When I grow up I’ll buy a piece of land Own some slaves and cut off hands When I grow up I wanna burn the iron Bullet hole, so I can fondle my scar Cinderblock, oh cinderblock The knots tied tight and it’s ready to drop Cinderblock, oh cinderblock Hands held high so the fall don’t stop Cinderblock, oh cinderblock Cinderblock, oh cinderblock Cinderblock, oh cinderblock Cinderblock, oh cinderblock
4.
Your fingers clinched around My aching bones You began to whisper Through the telephone Falsely idolize That’s what we prioritized Fantasize my own lie Set ablaze a planned life Bury my ghost Throw me in the fire Leave me to burn With all of your old desires Is it wrong To hold on to all of mine? Is it wrong To cast stones with no axe to grind?

about

“The things you see in worn-out VHS tapes bought and sold by dimly lit back alley shops and smoke-stained gypsies who claim they possess a black hold over their observers;

Sex workers who bury themselves in a violent masochistic work ethic, men who naively fight the encroaching darkness forced upon them, men whose sole purpose in life was designed since birth to lead others to it, and those who won’t accept it's existence - willfully drowning in the mess they made.”

credits

released August 21, 2019

Samual Glass - guitars, vocals, keys, everything

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tags

about

The Coward Robert Ford Jacksonville, Florida

pretentious nihilistic slowcore bootgaze post-emo doomer music

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