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about
This is not a pop album.
lyrics
Earn that paycheck
Get paid, get wrecked
Clock in, clock out
Washed up washout
What's my purpose?
Why am I here?
I can't do this
I won't die here
Be happy to be here
There's nothing to see here
Everything's fine
Fall back in line
Don't think too hard
It won't get you far
Get back to your phone
Leave us alone
Someday you and I
Will have a house
surrounded by a white picket fence and
I will go to work
While you stay home
And take good care of our 27 kids
Then we’ll both die
And they will cry
And they will buy us expensive caskets
Oh, that is the dream, that is the dream
How would you feel
If nothing was real
All you’ve been told
All you’ve been sold
What would you do
If nothing was true
All you perceive
All you believe
On their new EP, the British quartet channel their experimental rock chops into ambitious suites that flow effortlessly. Bandcamp Album of the Day May 6, 2019