Very limited edition CD of IF THE DUST WAS YOUR FEELINGS, I GUESS I WAS ON MY OWN, in sexy chipboard wallet, with postcard insert, and handmade, block-printed, two-tone cover art! Each one is completely unique!
Includes unlimited streaming of If The Dust Was Your Feelings, I Guess I Was On My Own
via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
ships out within 3 days
edition of 50
Purchasable with gift card
$10CADor more
Get a limited edition chapbook of IF THE DUST WAS YOUR FEELINGS, I GUESS I WAS ON MY OWN! Complete with all lyrics from the album, and original artwork by Jacob Earl.
ships out within 3 days
edition of 25
Purchasable with gift card
$8CADor more
about
The feeling of debts, real and perceived, drowning you; the feeling that you cannot work hard enough to ever meet expectations.
lyrics
Each little dirty secret
26 days
Floating in the stream
You hold tight to the nightmares,
Let go of the dreams
Each little secret
In the palm of your hand
Ties the memories you blocked
Cause they were too extreme
You regret a dead withered sycamore tree
You regret your cowardice
But you didn't flee
Conviction kept you grounded,
Frozen and numb
But you sold out your values,
Shuck your beliefs
A carefully folded note
Said I paid the debts that I owed
Thru the leaves left another view
Withered in the moat
26 pay cheques
Say this is your worth
You're queer and you're poor
Since the day of your birth
Work is not your life
And your life is not work
Your voice or your art,
Who outted you first?
Your regrets eat you up now,
A slap in the face
The monster in your closet,
You named it Ruminate
It no longer surprises you
When loved ones betray
Every small pleasure
You've given away
A carefully folded note
Said I paid the debts that I owed
Thru the leaves left another view
Withered in the moat
26 dreams
Of a place you've never been
A laughing stranger
Welcomes you in
Everything's familiar
In haunting slo’ mo’
A blurry memory
Of sadness and sin
Your regression techniques
Only leave me cold
The past is not coming back,
I'm getting old
My poverty
Was nobody's fault
I never quite fit
The right mould
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