Haddonfield homes disassembled one by one, every brick and stone. I’ve got a gun with the serial number scratched out. Jilted, I’ve kept a safe distance. Wait, another aspect of this story has been misplaced and evidence is evidently missing. Wait, another chapter has been erased. Now you can try to keep this up for days but where that curtain closed there’s room for growing. Take the wheel dear. Forty people speak at once but I hear only you. I’m hanging on but I don’t know for how long. I’ve fallen off and I’m sleeping on your front lawn.
supported by 7 fans who also own “Jefferson's Shadow”
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