Sharp sticks and strong winds
The curl of his hair when his brains in the past
Small precious berries
Pulled, filled, and thrusted by machine hands
Twisted and grinning those machine hands
Worn shoes on rough skin
Calloused and broken like old train tracks
Eyelashes plucked thin
One at a time by machine hands
I am lifting those machine hands
Cold sweats on hot nights
Fingers of hatred pushing up out his mouth
Fingers of hatred pushing up out his mouth
His teeth are the daggers and his tongue is his doubt
His teeth are the daggers and his tongue is his doubt
Contemplative shoegaze that doesn’t lean on cheap tricks. Resonant songwriting and thoughtful instrumentation are the only things Gilah has washed in reverb here, and to gorgeous effect. Max In The World
If you have a fondness for expertly wrought roots-rock with sharp lyrics and aching vocals, look no further—“Strangers” is for you. Bandcamp New & Notable Jan 8, 2022