by Pathos Mathos

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released June 30, 2014

Brian Cunningham - Guitar & Vocals
Samuel H Goldstein - Drums & Vocals
recorded and mastered at the Belle Rose by B-Cunn and Sammy Golds in two days on two mics with two hearts beating as one.
Album cover painting by Brennan Zwieg
Album cover photography by Brian Cunningham




Pathos Mathos San Jose, California

Brian and Sam making music to make hugs to.

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Track Name: DISTRUST
like an anxiety attack the cold front approaches
shocked by the chorus over and over and over and over
like an anxiety attack the cold front approaches
we're sick to our stomachs, no words no pictures can hold this
like an anxiety attack
I cannot believe that I still have to say that
I find nothing real for every time I feel it
Sticking into words and piercing into chords when
I am prying into the space in between

Every single chord and each and every string but
Still nothing moves me
I just want to smell the golden cymbal crash and
I just want to taste the bass push through my chest

I’ll strip off these clothes
Me quitaré la piel
Hasta que ya no haya nada
But the emotions hanging there
Hold myself up
I’m fooling myself

I can feel a thousand seeds
Plant my bones into the soil
Then I’ll be sure to never grow
I’ll never leave, I’ll never go

I can feel a thousand volts
Rip me out, dry and lost
I’ll never find another home
Mejor me voy, mejor me voy

Don’t you dare fucking tell me
That I am still here
As I sit alone in my bed
I’m nothing but
The definition of sick
I can breathe but I may as well be dead
I found my resemblance
In the glass of your hardened stare
And my assumptions were sewn upon me
Dry heaving conceit and pulling out hair

Heeding the ink that’s inside of our heads,
been tattooed into our brain tissue
Screaming, unthinking to please the dead,
nostalgia I think is our main issue

Textural glass imposes the harshest reflection
Botellas de Ciel, León, Coca y ansiedad
Una ola de euforia en la forma de una gente
Una unión más grande que un pinche dios, de verdad

This city has me wrapped
in its fingers of smog
Choke me into submission,
I’ve found and I’m lost

My privilege hung over me like a sickness
Attempt at empathy only to flail
Completely neglect a pricey education
Our good intentions completely derailed

We study our hatred, determine our worth
Bloated, unconscious, we fall to the earth
Still looking through tunnels we react with fists
And fight over a truth that does not exist

Poco a poco, día a día
Mi humor y mi confianza giran y giran
No puedo leer, no puedo leer
Las palabras, los libros, las emociones de
Cada cerebro, cada trozo de carne
Que ya he comido sin saber, sin saber
Shortsighted in development,
Regressive in their policies,
Circular in direction,
Percussive in their march.

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