The Saturday sun is on the decline.
Easy as pie. It’s yet another dead end soirée.
The children play as wild as what hides
from the still lingering light.
We spend a lifetime in the end of that day.
Hoping our chatter will keep the dark away.
Cruel as time, the light retreats.
Locks us away, soothes us to sleep.
This lullaby, our shield. We sing.
“Always a pleasure.
Hissed the snakes, from outside.
Always a pleasure.
We bathe in the day’s long light
Our dead end will endlessly strive
for that sandlot kind of life
but when the sun hides from sight
let the dusk tuck you in tight
for the copperheads have the night.”
The metal’s band revelatory new record crosses genres and styles, effortlessly combining seemingly incompatible subgenres. Bandcamp Album of the Day Apr 26, 2024