Limited edition 12" vinyl version of Sonny Falls' self-titled album. Pressed on black vinyl with full color insert with lyrics and artwork.
Includes unlimited streaming of Sonny Falls
via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
ships out within 7 days
$25USDor more
lyrics
Saw apocalypse-lite in the parking lot
We locked up our bikes and got into the line
Swabbed the roof of my mouth
And watched you do it too
Gave the tube to a teenager in a hazmat suit
I often wonder if this is my worst fear come true
All my compulsions were symptoms
Of some larger issue
A schizophrenic break i’ve been waiting to appear
I heard my uncle was crazy
But he’s been dead for years
And then i beat myself up
For being so self absorbed
But how is one supposed to feel when it feels
Like the end of the world
Weapons are drawn and there’s men in trucks
High on Qanon fumes and headed towards us
While the cop is at the bar, his mask under his nose
Getting lunchtime beer in his plainclothes
While the hostess is a ghost looking white as a sheet
I’m walking by to hurry home and wash my hands till the bleed
And then smoke cbd, half-ass yoga in jeans
To an instructor holding crystals on a live stream
I hear a hum in the sky, i hope its a plane
Or an alien spacecraft calling out my name
With a message for me saying i’ve won it’s a game
Then it all went black ended up in the backseat
Of some cosmic car and i’m speeding past scenery
Memories living in rent controlled places
So you know they’re not leaving, get used to their faces
Yeah the holy are high in childhood bedrooms
Playing russian roulette, wearing human costumes
Faces peeling off, half identities lost
The will to live bends on a suburban cross
Now that rooftop memory reveals hidden meaning
I remember purple teeth, you yelling and screaming
Said i suck and my band was somehow even worse
And then stumbled somewhere to puke on your shirt
Yeah, i fill in the details with what i wanna see
Truth’s a moving target based on memory
Introduced a fact to fiction for rosey forgery
Forgiveness is barely even necessary
Prospective paths chaos like the big bang
Tryna understand my role in the whole thing
An ocean of potential, game show on a screen
There’s shoes on a wire, a tv flickering
The night time is grinning, the end’s the beginning
The bus isn’t passing, it’s already passed
The dream of a future
Is gone at last
supported by 4 fans who also own “Apocalypse Lite”
Cafe Racer continues Chicago's long tradition of indie-rock / post-punk / whathaveyou, but with splashes of psych. Fluid but not overly studied. djfento