I'd better call the bastard back, tell him I'm not home
Watch my phone ring out, I’d rather be alone
Now reality‘s self involved, but welcome of course
The bars are like a shotgun to the head, of an already dead horse
Do you feel it?
We could drag up other excuses around but our patience is floored
The answers become malignant and we’re both bleeding and sore
You can build up a better excuse, you’re right I’ll take stock of the abuse
Let’s promise to save the subtitles until we’re both washed up on the shore
I pray for home, not money, not bottles, not cold
Just want that old feeling
Tell me you feel it, tell me you feel it
I pray for home, not money, not bottles, not cold
Just want that old feeling
Tell me you feel it; tell me you feel it... too
I pray for home, not money, not bottles, not cold
Just want that old feeling
Tell me you feel it; tell me you feel it... too
New York indie pop duo embark on an ambitious, ecstatic spirit quest, crafted with continuous listening in mind; a dreamy, rewarding loop. Bandcamp New & Notable Jun 7, 2023
Cermony's Ross John Farrar experiments with synths, bass, & percussion to make music similar to that from the '80s homemade tape scene. Bandcamp New & Notable Mar 30, 2023