weak wristed, leaden hands,
cover our collective face.
the sun won't reach our throats
as we swallow all the spit we can muster from the wound.
last breath, collapsed lungs.
for first the water will dry and sink into the dirt,
and soon we will follow on pallid, bloodied knees,
suffering less with every inch dragged closer to the bones.
the air has never been this thick with grief.
there will be no graves, we're buried in it.
The long-running NYC group's full-length debut explores the various guises of minimalism in music, from Krautrock to post-rock. Bandcamp New & Notable May 16, 2019