Demo July 2011
by Bonehouse
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Digital Album
Immediate download of 4-track album in your choice of MP3 320, FLAC, or just about any other format you could possibly desire.Buy Now ₤2 GBP
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We Know So Well
04:28
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Old Faithful
04:48
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Tops Off, Hoods Up
05:58
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about
Our first demo, available from us at a show or from here. Recorded May 2011 with the omniscient and luminous Ross Middlemiss.
credits
released 07 February 2013
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- Track Name: We Know So Well
- winter's steam screams, scaling nostrils, stigmata forming on sweaty palms adorned with woollen maps and heart attacks, we lost ourselves in treasure maps. smokey whisps of gunpowder, double barrelled and helpless regret, a tide of americana washing out from a sun-soaked bay. a stones throw from hearts and homes, longing is gone. golden pillars of forgotten promise radiate and gently admonish warm skin with cold truth but still we look forward into the sun. winter's steam screams, scalding nostrils, stigmata forming on sweaty palms adorned with woolen wraps and treasure maps, we lost our friends to heart attacks. wishing away wonderment, washing away lust, walking off conceit, waking up older. buried in books, bereaved and platonic, the hipflask promises to unmask all we know and never knew. avenues and rendez-vous, your cobblestones and your bag of bones, we're digging up words that we can't quite remember but we plan to dismember a stones throw from hearts and homes.
- Track Name: Shipwrecks Don't Sink Ships
- I can't see at all through binded eyes, for all to see the blind bind their eyes; but they can't see at all, the vinegar soaked first editions scattered in the road. cursing their way to perdition, singing their swansongs, jowels flicker under stage lights as we're stripped of our rights human first and last. where eyebrows meet and knuckles drag and hatred's wanton wave our black flag. whether you ignore it, or whether you deny it, your head in the sand is a burning cross.
- Track Name: Old Faithful
- a hot white flash; a recurring dream; an omnipresence. dirt corridors that we've limped down every day of our lives burn bright and burn loud; a mortuary. the lines on our faces gone, ordinance vanished. mapped out on his face, signatures of regret, face the fine lines that dignify our regrets. the feedback was a reprieve from the whispers of regret that haunt us undaunted and have done for decades. those brief seconds when we couldn't hear the screams and groans and clatter of prosthetic limbs. they left us in the trenches to die so pick up your guns and fight. muster all of what's left in your arthritic knuckles, holler and stammer 'once more into the breach'. pull yourselves out of your trenches, pull yourselves out of your rut, holler and yelp 'once more into the breach'. they left us in the trenches to die.
- Track Name: Tops Off, Hoods Up
- wrap my hands in threads of woe and curse out the names that you'll never know, until I go home and bind my hands in wound old tape of your favourite bands. dance in time with the rapture, cut all your hair and remember her, wrap my hands in cotton wool; twenty-five years of your fucking rules. silence, scissors scream, coming apart at the seams. silence, small town big mouth strikes again. tops off, hoods up, throwdown, fight back, get your kids up for a heart attack. the scissors scream, I'm coming apart at the seams, small town big mouth strikes again, strikes anywhere, the scissors scream, I'm coming apart at the seams. seventy-seven, you're on your own, you've emptied our hearts like you emptied our homes.
