All that stuff you love, its gonna be burned up.
All that stuff you love, its gonna find its way out of your hall.
That fresh you trust, its gonna make its way into the All.
On the way out of the sewer, bringing back its pension from the restlessness next door.
I know the way my mind wants to be sad/happy, Trust what it has done in the past.
Could be a whisper, or a sign, could just have a minute to mine these thoughts and actions, words and phrases, all the way back out of my heart. The student closes off the list and everyone is just a waiting star.
Is it wicked not to care? Frances Chang's layered, strange experimental pop recalls Lisa Germano in its pursuit of meaning in a sad world. Bandcamp New & Notable Jun 2, 2022