I want to be chilling out hanging out just like we were homies, doing dabs smoking crack talking like you know me, making out on my couch no concept of the lonely, feeling glad calling dad knowing that it's only, three more weeks til I’m gone and after that I’m just a memory for commission that all I’ll want for so long is just to be a part of someone's thoughts way out in the future, that nothing’s that bad when you’re young even in reflection. Smoking hash eating cash seeing what your bones mean, fucking fast cumming last making sure my room’s clean, talking back when you ask me about my nose ring, being slack not talking smack because you know it’s only, three more weeks till I’m gone and after that I’m just a body in position, not amoral or wrong, just stagnant of perception and impression in your recall, that it feels so good to latch on to the distant future.
Toronto rivals San Francisco as the North American capital of jangle pop as evidenced by this new record of sunny jams from the Motorists. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 16, 2024