Physical copy of Footnotes of the Wet Snow.
Comes in a sleeve with artwork by Nick Luevano
Includes unlimited streaming of Footnotes of the Wet Snow
via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
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Limited Edition Cassette
Cassette + Digital Album
Side A: Footnotes of the Wet Snow
Side B: Live recording of a show
Includes unlimited streaming of Footnotes of the Wet Snow
via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
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lyrics
Well, I continued on,
I left my footprints in the street,
in my front yard,
and all the spaces in between.
but tomorrow they’ll be gone,
melted over in the sun,
and I’ll have to start over again
back where I fuckin’ started from.
But is it worth the expense?
I have to start again,
no matter where it ends,
but won’t the wet snow still linger on my feet?
but won’t the wet snow still linger on my feet?
I thought I dealt with everything as it was handed down to me,
but see, I guess they were misplaced, somehow erased, as I shut off from everything, emotionally.
And now somewhere far down the line, I realized that I was hiding,
from myself or someone else? I can’t decide, but I was not alive, I did what I did to get by.
How am I supposed to be a man
when who I have to emulate’s a recreant?
And I don’t want to be him
But when someone calls my name don’t it ring out the same as his?
And I now witness this, her self-destructive motives, the way,
she raises half-empty bottles to her lips, discreetly in urgency.
And now I take notice, how my bloodstream, it claims to be,
half-empty in need of something else, to be functioning properly.
And all of this hesitation
in every single friendship or relationship that there’s potential in,
it confines me isolation,
but I can’t seem to shake from this thought of not needing anyone.
Stay too close to leave, but not close enough to stay.
Stay too close to leave, but not close enough to stay.
I’ve always been much better off that way,
I’ve always been much better off that way.
Aren’t these things nothing but meaningless
Trivial hardships and grievances?
Is my hindrance self-inflicted?
Aren’t these nothing but meaningless?
And the barren trees sway with content
Knowing the soil will let them flourish
And the breeze sings to me without end,
Says, “Aren’t these nothing but meaningless?”
And the forsaken structure still stands
Hoping soon it will be amended.
And the lamplight flickers regardless.
Is my hinderance self-inflicted?
Is my hinderance self-inflicted?
Have I grown too accustom to this?
Have I grown too accustom to this?
And the moon, it slowly emerges,
Says, “Aren't these nothing but meaningless?"
These are nothing but meaningless.
I can’t continue in this constant process,
every venture made afoot ends at the place I left.
I’ll drive away and leave this place in silence,
even though I’m so of unsure what lies ahead,
I refuse to let myself justify unhappiness.
I refuse to let myself justify unhappiness.
I turned the engine and backed out the driveway,
released the clutch and pressed the gas down, unafraid.
I can’t pretend that I won’t return someday,
but I know that on that day I’ll be a different man.
I refuse to let myself justify unhappiness.
I refuse to let myself justify unhappiness.
I refuse to let myself justify unhappiness.
I refuse to let myself justify unhappiness.
Toronto band Respire deliver a post-hardcore tour de force on the largest scale possible, orchestrally rich and incessantly uncompromising. Bandcamp New & Notable Jan 6, 2021
