I fill my cup with something raw. You treat me like a yokel, I’m slack jawed. I feel destined for the void again and the love unearned has caused a deficit. And I’ve come to my senses, my senses, succumbed to my senses and now I know that I’ve got my consensus. Consensus. I’ve got my consensus. I don’t deserve to get along. I don’t deserve to get along. I don’t deserve to get along with you or anyone that good. I wanted love, but just felt misunderstood. Oh no, they’re right. I’ve realized that this league ain’t mine. And I’ve succumbed to my senses, my senses. I’ve come to my senses, my senses.
A split cassette archives the recordings of two youthful Massachusetts bands, whose sounds range from math rock to dream pop to punk. Bandcamp New & Notable Feb 2, 2018