The back of my notebook is a great place
To clear out my head of all the empty space
The words that always get in the way
When I'm trying to work through the week day
And even though the rhythm is slowing
Im glad I know that I can write a poem
My passion came from the pit, the pit that was in my mind
the world then became a shrine of memories lodged in time
dependency in a line, you lodged in between a rhyme
escape is just an illusion in tune with the u-n-i
eye see it, eye see it
quit trying to run farther you genius
(It's not enough)
The world was made with my words, the words came from the world at large
The Chicago indie-rock trio deliver an album for remembering the revitalizing feeling of inhaling fresh air—the aural equivalent of a gleam of hope Bandcamp Album of the Day Jul 20, 2020