Burning streets and naked helplessness
Between armies of busy tin soldiers.
Will I end this birthday of blood?
No, I’m just a tank, my name is Frank,
And I’ve got my mission-
To kill peace,
All phantasies,
so that blood is coming down in sheets!
To be child of a dirty soil
That is controlled and fed with oil.
To be the dew of the morning sun,
Shooting, hitting, that’s much fun!
Green, cold, deadly, made of steel,
In spite of it I think and feel.
I’m only just seeding fear,
They control me, get out of here!
And now you all wanna know, what I won:
Extinguishing what the moral was counting on.
And after all I have to regret
That my mum, my dad once met
To have a tank;
Steel that directly drives out of the womb.
I must go on, there’s no choice,
I keep obeying, don’t change my poise.
Yes, I regret, want my mind to forget.
But I must go on, that’s my final call,
-so sad-
I could have never given love to them all.
Recorded on the Grecian isle of Hydra, this is blissed-out psych pop with stacked falsetto harmonies and luscious arrangements. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 9, 2023
Two dozen 12-string acoustic improvisations that feel undeniably haunting, like lost transmissions from ancient Appalachia, rediscovered. Bandcamp New & Notable Oct 17, 2022