Everyone is asleep. I'm delivering the news to them at 4:00 A.M. seven days a week. 6:00 A.M. rolls around as I leave the town. It's a pyramid and I only fit at the bottom of it. Just like a damp cloth hidden beneath the sink, you keep me in the dark until it's convenient. Everyone is awake. Go about their day with the photographs. As they smile and laugh I don't understand. Just as a damp cloth trying its best to retain, I do more harm than good ring me out again and again. I don't know how long that this can go on. Well, I don't think it's worth it. Just give our lives to work isn't really working. Furthermore, how can this be worth it? It's so far from perfect. Well, I need a vacation. Can't differentiate these weekdays and the weekends. I implore, pinch me if I'm dreaming hit me if I'm screaming. I don't know how long, that this can go on. Something must be wrong, I cannot feel calm.
supported by 12 fans who also own “Icicle Pyramid”
Been following Somos for many years, feeling that they had an opus in them...well, here it is. Driving pop-punk sensibilities lend an upbeat tone in contrast to the grim lyrical proceedings, and they absolutely pull it off. Evocative music that's been on repeat for me all month long. RIP, Phil PaintedDogs