E.P. One
by Snow On Lens
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Streaming + DownloadPurchasable with gift card
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Everyone Here Is Asleep
16:44
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C23 062
If sound were an invisible architecture and anyone still read books maybe nothing would have to be said. Because a thousand tiny feet shattering the lakes-worth of ice would be enough. But not that many people get out nowadays. How much ice have you smashed on your way to work recently? If a sound can become a question here is what I heard. The feeling of cold water on a warm neck down the back. To genre specify, interesting and deliberate. Like the first song knew how it felt to make you wake up thirsty and the second never let you stop drinking. A cruel trick. Burying the most beautiful woman you have ever met by hand in damp soil. Smashed glass before the sun brought to boil. It didn't make me want to play an instrument so I set fire to my guitar. And so many girls turn in the air to the sound of spinning tops. Talk as if words were a storm that never stops. Joyful in its maliciousness. Not sure if the smile started to hurt if or it just hurts to smile. I fell into it like an old bed with new sheets. The world here has been crafted with the last sentence of a never ending story with no one left around to close the book. Dan Cope.
If sound were an invisible architecture and anyone still read books maybe nothing would have to be said. Because a thousand tiny feet shattering the lakes-worth of ice would be enough. But not that many people get out nowadays. How much ice have you smashed on your way to work recently? If a sound can become a question here is what I heard. The feeling of cold water on a warm neck down the back. To genre specify, interesting and deliberate. Like the first song knew how it felt to make you wake up thirsty and the second never let you stop drinking. A cruel trick. Burying the most beautiful woman you have ever met by hand in damp soil. Smashed glass before the sun brought to boil. It didn't make me want to play an instrument so I set fire to my guitar. And so many girls turn in the air to the sound of spinning tops. Talk as if words were a storm that never stops. Joyful in its maliciousness. Not sure if the smile started to hurt if or it just hurts to smile. I fell into it like an old bed with new sheets. The world here has been crafted with the last sentence of a never ending story with no one left around to close the book. Dan Cope.
credits
released April 27, 2014
Written | Performed | Recorded by Timothy Machin 2010
Written | Performed | Recorded by Timothy Machin 2010
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Snow On Lens Staffordshire, UK
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