Oh where, Oh where art thou my love? Alas, I am alone.
Concealed, obscure, but rendered pure. My blood upon the rose.
The trees are dressed in decadence. Stripped bare from limb to bone.
And I am but a Siren's fool whose heart has turned to stone.
I have a strong distaste of last nights mistakes polluting my tongue this morning.
From getting drunk and telling lies.
There's a girl in the bed, her clothes on the ground,
She aint Mrs. right, she's just Ms. right now,
And I resent her as she sleeps.
It was the sky, the stars, the way that she kissed me,
The beer, the rum, the gin and the whiskey,
And the haunting fear of being alone.
I got a bloody nose, and an empty bag, to accompany my empty heart.
Are we plastic? Are we mannequins?
I am so torn.
As we howl at the moon, and curse the gods that we don't believe in,
Smashing our ashes like glass into caskets, still waiting.
So I'll inhale the blue-black cold, and hide my face behind my hands.
Cause they mold the dark where I am safe.
I've kept these dreams a secret, of taking flight and finding meaning
In this world and in my bleeding.
I blow my kisses to the pavement.
Bingeing the beast of our towered thoughts,
Stitching tall tales and steep tongues,
Ever twisted and entangled in the fabric of the night.
We are still, we are still, we are still waiting.
I am so torn.
As we howl at the moon, and curse the gods that we don't believe in,
Smashing our ashes like glass into caskets, still waiting.
So if you are a wretch like me you know this all too well.
These rocks in our bodies will fail us someday.
We are just four kids who grew up together and love playing rock and roll. No gimmicks or explanations. We want to play your basements, your garages, your hometowns, your granny's attic, whatever.
supported by 7 fans who also own “A Portrait of The Artist”
A perfect punk album. What always amazes me is that it's littered with melodies and lyrics good enough on their own to build an entire song around, but Captain We're Sinking has so many great ideas, they don't need to stretch any single one beyond its welcome. This will have you coming back over and over again. John Martin