Fawned of Gargoyles

by Walter Etc.

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about

Recorded in Kokomo's basement in summer of 2012, after receiving nauseating news.

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credits

released October 7, 2012

tags

tags: alternative emo lo-fi makingnewenemies pop punk sinatra surf Portland

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Making New Enemies Portland, Oregon

www.makingnewenemies.com

Art Collective / Utopian Cult / Soul Posse

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Track Name: Fawned
Long I’ve fawned your pear eyes
Takes a lotta faceless fauna
Long to drive impaired eyes
Faked the bond of face I’m fond of
Long you rode in falling cakes
To fail my flaws, undressed incase
If you ever were to call, purrs will suffice
Purge our shut-eye
Pause what should I lose
If you ever were to call, I’m not sure what I’d say to you
I’m not sure what I’d say to you.
Track Name: Of Gargoyles
Ethical burns, cool in the shame, a license to love gives me permission to hate.
I lay to rest a long, played out, dragged on, dulled down charade that’s lost it’s edge.
Carry on my lovely widow, coma-tosed by all your pillows, if only, I understand that you don’t want to be lonely, so I quit counting all the tears that you owe me, I finally buried all our bruises below me, and feel a burning building bust that I don’t mind a little- it’s all peripheral.
I’m digging every little thing.

Nevermind, we can change everything if you want. God knows his lows won’t hurt you, and my religion says that we’ve been living well…
Evermore? I dunno. We can be flexible. Just tap toes my rambling prose instead of sitting there grieving cause all meaning is leaving. I’d say I’ve been there before, but you’d never believe me.

It was the devil himself singing out of a hearse. Well, I could barely bare his chorus but the verses made it worse, and if you listen real close a subliminal note said, “I’m struggling too you know. I’ve got your habits to watch, your enemies to save. I’ve gotta dig your dirty secrets a dirty little grave. And if you thread my hello, it makes a mellow moan.”

Ever since, lord I see gargoyles on everything, they’re cracking as their laughing while their sitting right infront of me, and stroking the stones meant for breaking our bones, always breaking our bones, making a mess of our homes.
A little bomb little calm looking face as it drops, a little dreary getting teary over graduation pop songs, long as it’s the Guinness World Book of Frustration see the every bit of genius in your every situation digging every little thing.