A rudimentary chemistry I start from side to sideThe air tastes like aluminum foil I bite it just to know it's mineGlasses on my head I couldn't find coat...
A rudimentary chemistry I start from side to side The air tastes like aluminum foil I bite it just to know it's mine Glasses on my head I couldn't find coat buttoned up all wrong I'm walking through my memory Draw shapes in Sharpie on my hand Lines we let ourselves forget Nobody's looking for real answers on demand They just don't want to die and never know The code, the code, figure out the code before we're gone The code, the sign, if you know it show it, sing along Coffee sits and loses all appeal Skin prickles oh they tickle nothing in here's real Now it's blurred sharp and thin and irritated Someone knocks from deep inside but keep waiting You have no idea what to expect from people like me No idea at all Draw shapes in Sharpie on my hand Lines we let ourselves forget Nobody's looking for real answers on demand They just don't want to die with a regret The code, the code, figure out the code before we're gone The code, the sign, if you know it show it, sing along The code, the code, figure out the code before we're gone The code, the sign, doesn't matter, get it right Get it right where you belong
Song Information
From the LP Here Comes the Breakdown (Operator Archive Vol. 13), now streaming everywhere.
Read Full Song Info
From the LP Here Comes the Breakdown (Operator Archive Vol. 13), now streaming everywhere.
Cinematic cloud pop. Steamy, dreamy, post-vaportrap noir. Two (sometimes three) anonymous phone sex operators from a lost David Lynch miniseries. A haunted...
Cinematic cloud pop. Steamy, dreamy, post-vaportrap noir. Two (sometimes three) anonymous phone sex operators from a lost David Lynch miniseries. A haunted lounge act for dark romantics with exceptional taste and questionable exes.
