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| Emo Список групп раздела | emo, screamo, post-hardcore, midwest emo |
| Метки: screamo |
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| Опции темы | Поиск в этой теме |
29.06.2008, 23:01
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#1 | |
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Sweet and Low
Репутация: 211
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Wow, Owls!
  http://www.myspace.com/wowowls http://www.last.fm/music/Wow,+Owls! Jeff - Vocals John - Guitar Tyler - Bass Brandon - Guitar Brian - Drums Цитата:
Скрытый текст1989: the best four years of my life
this is a picture postcard. greetings from wherever i am. ive been handled and perused by second hand men in hand me down shoes. you want me to sing you a song? what key do you want it in? ive got the perfect pitch. dress and doll me up and ill assume your role. dissect me. dont you disappoint me. you can lay me on your table and cut me up with your scalpel. ill slip on the concrete just to get it right. im your fool of all fools. trapped in grammatical errors, we're all prison pent. monsters make love in my closet with skeletons. the doors wide open. these words are recorded from black lungs. you cant hug a photograph or kiss a melody but you can still relive memories. im encased in tattered transparencies and worn out grooves smoothed out by use from a needle tracing impressions of direction. you can pick up my broken body, dust me off, remember that i tried, remember that we all tried. maybe this time the words will make sense. is it so hard to lose your thoughts like mine? it balms the mind with painless numbing novacaine neverminds. maybe this time the notes will fit in tune, i am the emulsion. dead letters still can speak. we are not unique but we still can pretend as long we stand on the shoulders of shadows of giants that were never there. you can cleanse me. your melodies and harmonies erase me. chris, did you ruin the dance party? we speak in circles in speak with tripping tongues tripping over our own saliva secreting from our wounds. these lame metaphors are metaphorically tearing at my heart strings. if you want some childs play with words, you want it, you got it. but ive been proven that words are meaningless. the answer is yes so you can lead your exegesis to your cross. wipe that cheetah off your lips. its your leopard like style which keeps me swept away under the puzzled patterns of your mind where you dont think ill hide. swept awayunder the puzzled patterns of your mind where you cant lock me out. and all the soul singers can sing straight up "i wish you still called me." your words drip with sincerity. your words could wash me clean. make the kitten coo. strike the felines fur. you mask your own desires. she masks her own desires. why cant we say what we want to? why cant we say what we need to? ive been buried around these same old broken homes that we found. these words could fill six bottles. paise them to your lips; sink them to your stomach. we could fill ourselves on empty calorie conversation. you used tos peak for something, now you just recyle shit. destination pizza step off your assembly line. your speech bubble is already filled in. your cacophony is a cliched catch phrase. its polarized to sting the ears of selective hearing satellites orbiting through the vacant skies. well leave as ashes. we will dance like everyone is watching. clap your hands like everyone is watching. this cold reading is scripted with pretension. strike the set. its just seasonal. our lives are regional. same ideas. different bodies. find your wires. if you want a new presonality you can just plug in your attachments. find your wires sterilize with friendly fire. second hand me down sheep skin doesnt suit you well. this is the sound of a million chameleons dying. five sexy alligators please just remember that its my hand that opened this vein so youre excused from all the future entanglements well never have. precious rubies spell out, welcome home, on a banner streaming across the sky looking westward. i found myself in a tv plot that i dont want to act in. im not a child anymore, so why do i have to raise my hand? im counting lessons ill never learn on twenty fingers and twenty toes. i dont want to sleep it off tonight but i can still outrun the reruns with my friends of yesteryear. maybe its better we never see each other and live for right now. its time for bed so wrap yourself in false friendships that you created yourself. maybe its better to sleep in or wake up. wake up. im waking up. houston. we have a drinking problem. there was laughter one fall ago, now its distilled. the remenats are tinted brown sinking to the cup tipped upfor a toast. your window is a television lit up with a line of pretty people waiting for their fifteen minutes. the actors are fake friends but at least i know they dont secretly hate me. can you hear me? can you hear me clipping on your radio? theres a song playing on my stereo. i sing along wishing i could become a vessel so my soul can soar, can travel back in time. i sing along to my stereo. it always sounds better in my head. i wanted to write a fuck you song, now i know that the you could be me. theres a vague resemblance in the looking glass to a person that i once knew. maybe hed tell me, "its a sad stale coffee cup slogan, youre not going to make it." ill be your huckleberry theyve gotten in. i can feel their breath on the back of my neck. i can feel their fingers faintly carressing me. this makeshift monster is mine. i provided the wood for myself. itll rot and decay. i know that its not raining because im a banquet for the earthworms buried in my skin; for the maggots dwelling deep within. throw me into the front yard. shut my eyes, the sores of the soul. cover up with makeup the reality that we're not perfect. and if misery loves company, then i dont want to be miserable so i can rest alone. let me sleep. this is the last time youll ever see me so wave goodbye. this is the answer to a question that you never asked but i have realized that im a monster inside. force your lips to express the kiss. nominative was the case they gave me climate control, i want to feel warm again. climate control, pain down on me, the misery i love to heed. chemical imbalance children are convictions using training wheels to hold us up below sea level. we're just chemical reactions. oregon hill is a map of old friends and acquaintances that i use to guide my way. puppy dogs tag team tall tales to each other marching on into the distance singing that song we know so well. hand in hand, cheeck to cheeck. you can hear them screaming, L U I E make them believe me we are the townies. what if all the fireflies were poisonous? wed take cover every summer just to retreat into our homes. just think about...think about... i forgot. what was it like to go outside in the summertime? this town is a retirement home. to say that we're safe is an overstatement of the way things seem. pull back the skin, where i love to dig. remove themarrow, the bones become hollow. pull back the skin, remove the marrow and ill wipe this liposuction from my hands. there will always be a celibration to drink that we create ourselves. this hole is a hive, laced with honey, still stings on the inside. saccharine for my sweetie weve been tarnished by the weigh of the world and its rubbing up against us. and yeah, i do. i do to you, too. you said you knew what you wanted. well i thought i did too. i used to put life out of me. with every flashbulb spark, a piece of me flakes and falls to the floor. could you forget me? could you regret me? say youll miss me because i want to believe that you will miss me. this beds too cold without you here and i need you near. this house is not a home. is there somebody else? will these be our better years culminating in graying hair and lost teeth we cant kiss from 600 miles away. because when our child starts crying, i just cant help it. i have to join in. and whats in it for all of us, two satin-lined caskets so we can share a plot together? id rather hold you here in my arms now to feel the two beating pulses from sickened hearts. this pain, this beat, this frustration will fade and wash away letting us pretend we never experienced them. this beat will fade. just like a memory. Scary Barry I wanna rewrite every style. To rewrite something you never read. So don't blame me, please forget me. If it's not for your dumb lethal lies. Don't think we'll cut you too. Your love gone, Your love gone. You can build your life on a pile of trash, You can build your life on a pile of shit, You can build your life on crescent. It doesn't matter, because you say, you say, you say, you say, you say say say No one's ever good to write me pain. Your squalor were selfish crime. Swill it out, swill (still?) it down. You should learn to check your pawns. (This is how you learn to live alone) This is how you learn to live alone. your new favorite song youre a daisy if you do, youre a daisy if you dont, so cut the check. please dont bite my head off after you take the silver spoon from my mouth. hide the drugs from the kids, they wont have to know. the view is skewed. do as i say, but not as i do. debase yourself. i wonder what the man the man in the moon must think if from 3000 miles away, it looks pretty silly to me. but i know im no better. pick your pattern. dots erased replaced overflowing on a page with the help of a dried up pen. fissures fracture, the floor falls apart. it leaves a hole where the weight pulls me down. the weight pulls me ten miles down where ill melt. ten miles down and we're not on solid ground. here is the canvas that you painted over. convectional currents spread our love away. we're not getting any younger or so they say. it exposes the hurts lying dormant deep inside. waiting to shift back to your love where ill reside. [свернуть] Дискография: “Pee Sout” CD-R (self released; February 2006) Pick Your Patterns” CD/LP (Perpetual Motion Machine & Life In A Box; April 2005/February 2006) Split 7” w/ The Setup (Perpetual Motion Machine & Life In A Box; October 2005) “Mind Explosion” Demo CD-R/Cassette (self released/Goembessa; 2004) ЗЫ: юзал поиск и не нашел тему о группе  . Так что решил создать.
Последний раз редактировалось псово лаяние; 30.09.2011 в 19:54. |
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| 87 пользователя(ей) сказали спасибо: |
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30.06.2008, 13:58
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#5 |
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now turn the other cheek and pretend
Репутация: 529
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Re: Wow, Owls!
Последний раз редактировалось denver; 30.06.2008 в 13:58. Причина: Добавлено сообщение |
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| 2 пользователя(ей) сказали спасибо: | againstthecure (30.06.2008), Cyclophosphamide (30.06.2008) |
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02.07.2008, 01:09
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#11 | ||
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mp3 56 kbps
Репутация: 0
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Re: Wow, Owls!
Цитата:
Добавлено через 40 секунд Цитата:
Добавлено через 5 минут кстати они попали ко мне, когда только начинал знакомится со скримо и добрый дядька записал мне первую скрымо болванку, сходу не вызвали никакого интереса. случается же такое) Последний раз редактировалось In Silico; 02.07.2008 в 01:10. Причина: Добавлено сообщение |
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02.07.2008, 01:10
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#12 | |
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vinyl 12"
Репутация: 780
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Re: Wow, Owls!
Цитата:
Просто я не люблю односложные посты лишённые аргументации. Если ты говришь - "Да, круто", я думаю стоит сказать что же именно понравилось в сабже, а если просто пишешь - "Ниже среднего", лично мне совсем не понятно откуда подобное мнение взялось. Веть что я имел в виду- не понятно что среднее, и уж тем более что выше или ниже его. Вот ты написал свой аргумент "Как определяю? Ну когда я раньше слушал тех же saetia или какой либо более-менее попсовый френч у меня мурашки по телу шли. А Wow, Owls! никогда не вызывала никаких "эмоций", - и сразу стало ясно почему ты сделал такой вывод, и думаю ни я, ни кто другой с тобой теперь спорить не будет. Давайте будем в разделе общаться нормально, по человечески, уважая мнения всех людей. |
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02.07.2008, 12:32
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#14 |
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now turn the other cheek and pretend
Репутация: 529
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Re: Wow, Owls!
для меня творчество группы вообще дуалистично. есть довольно веселые, как для жанра скримо, композиции, есть наоборот - мрачные. пожалуй, такие эмоции у меня вызывают только они и ду эндроидс дрим оф элэктрик шип?.
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13.12.2008, 18:09
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#24 |
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Banned
Репутация: 430
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Re: Wow, Owls!
опа, не писал что люблю их. файв секси алигаторс ех ремикс это их величайший трек, полнейший угар и распиздос.
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| Пользователь сказал спасибо: | я не слышу нихера (17.12.2008) |
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:, я залил альбомы на сервак.
