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II (DEMO)

by Pathos Mathos

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1.
DISTRUST 01:21
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
2.
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
3.
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
4.
FINALIZER 04:54
Shortsighted in development, Regressive in their policies, Circular in direction, Percussive in their march.

credits

released June 30, 2014

Sorcha Cunningham - Guitar & Vocals
Samuel H Goldstein - Drums & Vocals
recorded and mastered at the Belle Rose by Sorcha 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 Sorcha Cunningham

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Pathos Mathos San Jose, California

Sorcha and Sam making music to make hugs to.

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