Home's my two friends' couch when they thought they loved each other.
Home's an all night bike ride when I'm pissing off my father.
Home's that bar on Carleton, $2.50 for tequila.
Home's that changing someone, I swear I can still feel you.
The only thing that unifies these home's is not they're only in my mind,
Now I'm homesick.
Sometimes I feel homeless,
My own home-wrecker.
I guess I feel homesick.
Home is frantically pacing through record store.
Paycheque "wasting," but there are far worse things to score.
Home is the smell of cheap rye and the bite of the cold,
When you're shivering outside pretending to smoke,
Because the dress code's a smile, party favour's a joke,
So you skip the goodbye, vanish into the dark road.
The only thing that unifies these home's is not they're only in my mind,
Now I'm homesick.
Sometimes I feel homeless,
My own home-wrecker.
I guess I feel homesick.
Nostalgia! I swear that I've earned you.
Nostalgia! I'm scared that I've spurned you.
My transience just a habit,
I'll try quit, take a stab at it.
I swear I'll stay if I ever learn to.
Anna Arobas makes intricate, otherworldly folk-pop with delicate, glacial arrangements but a howl of heartbreak at the center. Bandcamp New & Notable Oct 11, 2022
Belaver’s “Trash” builds from hushed verses to a big, booming crescendo of a chorus, with lyrics that praise finding beauty in darkness. Bandcamp New & Notable Aug 14, 2018