Indentions in the Sheets
"Our minds are permeable to forgetfulness; I myself am distorting and losing, through the tragic erosion of the years, the features of Beatriz." -- Jorge Luis Borges
Hello friends. I bring news! First we have some shows to tell you about. We're very excited to be playing NYC Popfest in June alongside so many top notch musical outfits from all over the globe. And it's not just a show, it's a BBQ! We'll be back in Philly immediately afterwards to play at the North Star Bar. As always, head on over to the shows page for details.
We also have a new demo to share with you. It's called Things I Used to Know.
_________________
The old wooden swingset where we used to play
the scent of the autumn in eastern PA
the taste of your skin at the end of the day
oh, I hate to see them go
The play of the moon on the skin of the lake
the song of the birds that would nudge us awake
the lay of your hair and the curve of your face
oh, the things I used to know
why can't I keep them here with me?
I see them still like last night's dreams
and what becomes of the memories
when we stop remembering?
Wind in the leaves on the first day of school
the sting of chlorine in the Willowdale pool
they're fading according to time's awful rules
oh, I wish that it weren't so
Save my house and save my room!
save the lake and save the moon!
why can't I keep them here with me?
I see them still like last night's dreams
and what becomes of the memories
when we stop remembering?
Hello friends. I bring news! First we have some shows to tell you about. We're very excited to be playing NYC Popfest in June alongside so many top notch musical outfits from all over the globe. And it's not just a show, it's a BBQ! We'll be back in Philly immediately afterwards to play at the North Star Bar. As always, head on over to the shows page for details.
We also have a new demo to share with you. It's called Things I Used to Know.
_________________
The old wooden swingset where we used to play
the scent of the autumn in eastern PA
the taste of your skin at the end of the day
oh, I hate to see them go
The play of the moon on the skin of the lake
the song of the birds that would nudge us awake
the lay of your hair and the curve of your face
oh, the things I used to know
why can't I keep them here with me?
I see them still like last night's dreams
and what becomes of the memories
when we stop remembering?
Wind in the leaves on the first day of school
the sting of chlorine in the Willowdale pool
they're fading according to time's awful rules
oh, I wish that it weren't so
Save my house and save my room!
save the lake and save the moon!
why can't I keep them here with me?
I see them still like last night's dreams
and what becomes of the memories
when we stop remembering?
