Superstition has a way of being echoed in the grave.
Cancel all your plans today. They're gone, they're gone, they're gone.
Every sentence left behind gets paragraphed into a shrine.
Pencil in your alibis. They're gone, they're gone, they're gone.
SUCH INNOCENCE IS FICTION,
A SLOW GLORY WRAPPED IN SENTIMENTAL EXHIBITION.
I KNOW HOW IT HURTS TO BE ALONE.
NOT ALL ARROGANCE IS FICTION WHEN YOUR STORY'S ENDING.
WHEN YOUR STORY'S ENDING, DON'T SUFFER THE CONTRACT.
I KNOW HOW IT HURTS TO CRUMBLE
Instead distance slips away, sheep-clothed and kicking down the gates.
Cancel all your marches now. They're gone, they're gone.
In place, stake your claim to shine a simple star to light the sky.
Order all those trumpets down. They're gone, they're gone, they've sounded.
All tradition has a way of being canceled and replaced.
Echo all your fears away. How long, how long, how long?
It's too mentioned how the weak hibernate in jealousy.
It's too fictional here.
It's too fictional here.
The Paranoyds swirl together new wave, alt-rock, and an ultra blasé attitude on their new full-length and first for Third Man Records. Bandcamp New & Notable Jun 30, 2022
The first new album in 30 years from these noise rock pioneers, featuring the iconic Thalia Zedek, positively rips. Bandcamp New & Notable Nov 12, 2019