Forgot to make an effort to capture the moment as it flew by.
And now I can't remember the details of the very last time.
But I'm sure that as I left I said goodbye.
And I'm sure that in the moment I knew why.
Yeah I must've had my reasons for leaving it behind,
but I can't help wanting to go back no matter how I try.
Now I can hear it beckon each time I leave my home.
And I'm not sure, but I reckon I might be heading down a similar road.
Cause these tombstones look familiar.
And these old crows know my name.
And with very little effort I discover a clever hiding place
Where inside's gently used blessings and a jar of worn out lies.
And a box of secrets swelling and an obvious disguise.
And a crumbling escape tunnel that'd been used too many times.
Then a solemn tune that still echoed around the room
is how I knew this home had once been mine.
So i burnt it down to nothing to prevent this same mistake,
but its dark energy is running through my spirit, through my veins.
And it must be something heavy to wash most my soul away.
And the sparse silt left is filthy and choking out my brain.
Now I notice voices whispering, but I can't hear what they say.
And I see some auras shimmering, but I can't make out their shapes.
Now the ground beneath me is splitting, shifting further and further away.
Yeah the chasm is growing quickly, about to get me
but which side should I take?
Which side should I take?
On “Lost at the Party,” Terry Malts trade their marauding pop-punk for dark, mature pop. The result is their best record to date. Bandcamp Album of the Day Oct 31, 2016