1. |
Safe Distance
02:48
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His world is so close to mine though I'll never understand it
I bite my nails and waste my time, he waits for bad things to happen
and stares out an open window
His world is so close to mine when no one's around to notice
And I watch his sunken spirit flying through the hallways
Of all we tried to love in everyone but ourselves
And somewhere I had learned to keep myself at a safe distance
From everyone I know. Pull apart my heart; my spirit's missing.
And now I'm scared of who I am to you. Unsure of who you are to me
In everything I ever do I'm scared of who I am to you.
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2. |
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The city's pretty in its own way if you can find the time to notice.
But it's so damn cold I can barely even focus
On my job or on my grades. I can't even feel my face
So how am I supposed to feel for you?
I just hope it's coming soon.
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3. |
Seasonal Grief
04:09
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Sometimes I scare myself looking in the mirror
Sometimes I don't see myself for days
I indulge in vanity like everybody else
But I broke my mirror moving out of George Street
I am not the clothes I wear or the company I keep any more than
I'm a part of someone's cityscape
I see him in the town on the windows of the cafes and
On the sidewalks after dainty days
And he scares me. God, I hope that I don't scare you
I'm just tired all the time. I don't mean to
He's anxious and he's staring back at me
Waiting for the floor to give out underneath his feet
I feel too old to be so young and I'm sorting through
The papers and the deadlines of both
Opening folders and not reading anything
I throw it out before I head back home
And he's screaming hard into the white marble sink in
The middle of the afternoon on New Year's Eve
And I'm watching him sing a song of seasonal grief
Waiting for the floor to give out underneath his feet
He's standing in the doorway and he just won't leave
I wake up, make it through the week, and go to sleep
And I scare him. Christ, it's already late December.
I'm just tired all the time and I just can't remember why I'm here
Sorting through last week's papers and old magazines
Waiting for the world to give out underneath my feet
I wake up, make it through the week, and go to sleep
He's standing in the doorway and he just won't leave
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4. |
Winner/Gagnant
02:05
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Wet pavement, the faint smell of diesel fumes
Light's blinding. The cashier stares a hole in you
Just a coffee. You don't have change to leave a tip
You walk back outside and then you take a sip
It's not a great brew but what else can you say
It's from a plastic jug and it's been sitting all day
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5. |
All Wrong
05:04
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He works his way through a pack of cigarettes.
One a day until he's got one left
And saves it for an evening or
A day he'll feel he needs it
He's got friends he won't know after Friday
Wakes up all alone in a doorway
To someone's quiet knocking
With crumpled napkins in his pockets
But he's a stack of papers anyone can read right through
Everything he's made of is written on a page or two
With friends in every corner, you think he'd
Kill to be a stranger but he's not thinking,
"How long until this starts feeling all wrong?"
She fell in love with an art school townie who
Never moved out of Carleton County
She saw him come home wasted and watched him
Pass out in the driveway
She can't sleep waiting for a call back
With rotten butterflies in her stomach
She waits another day
And waits another day
And she will try to make him love her and he will say he does
But he won't take her out to dinner or hold her hand in public enough
To make her feel her time is not just wasted every day, and she says,
"It's been so long since anything felt this wrong"
She saw him hanging out in town last week. Kissing the cashier after her shift at the King Confectionary
She won't need a reason to ignore his call. He will spew his reasons and she won't care at all
Because he's a stack of papers and she had read them through. Everything he's made of is written on a page or two
He smokes his cigarette. The one that he'd been saving,
And walks back down the avenue when the dial tone stops playing
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6. |
Fool A Kid
02:12
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Go check the mail at 4 am
Then try to fall asleep again
It's no use
You're my best friend
Your arms aren't long enough to box with god
But what's to stop you from swinging a kick
And you're not smart enough to know when you're wrong
But loud enough to fool a kid
Frustrated with the microwave
You're all pissed off like every day
Its too late
You're my best friend
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Sorry Snowman Ottawa, Ontario
owen + dax + cole + sean
Sorry Snowman recommends:
the greatest 2-piece from canada
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this album is amazinggg! what the heck!
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Red Hot & Holy
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This Atlanta group have a unique take on Americana, bridging queer cabaret culture of the 1920s and '30s with punchy contemporary rock.
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Indie rock with that late '90s approach: burbling melody, a literary bent, and a restless heart.
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All Girls Go To Heaven
by Mint Green
Bright and dazzling guitar pop radiates out from this irresistible LP from Mint Green, with choruses as big as summer sky.
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