It's hard to explain,
A sour sensation, it crept up quietly,
Caught me off guard,
Stole my attention, blindsided by myself,
I guess I've been thinking a lot,
Spent my winter fighting a war with the sound of my voice,
November was cold, December was freezing,
It came in through the walls,
I needed your voice, you need my comfort,
But we didn't have a choice,
I guess I'll see you next year,
Spent my Christmas hiding away with my panic attacks,
We kept in contact with short sweet messages,
Keeping our plans to ourselves and no one else,
I'll waste my time, tell my family I'm fine,
I won't trouble them, they're happier ignorant,
So tell me I'm fine, some kind of confirmation of what's inside this mind stretched,
I'm looking for answers in all the wrong places,
At the bottom of a bag, at the bottom of a glass
A fellow Isle of Wight gravel-voiced heavy drinker currently situated in Southampton. You should check him out cause his records far more punk rock than mine. Max William
Self-described "power goth" band from Colorado goes maximalist with a strident album inspired by ’90s pop punk, emo, and alternative. Bandcamp New & Notable Aug 30, 2023