If I had a cent for every empty word I heard I’d buy myself a church and nail myself to a cross.
So let it rain disappointment, let it fill every hole
Until the streets drown in it. Wading through it we’ll line them up, (all the plans we made,)
Line them up and bury them without eulogy or praise
Write “irony” across their tombstones, the saints cry for them in vain,
They should cry for us, we’ll never earn our goddamn haloes.
We meet at the deathbed of ambition (call them liars, telling it fought the good fight,
I was there, naked skin and commercials were all I saw).
No heroes left and I’m pretty sure we missed the chance to die young.
So I’ll draw a circle of black humour big enough to call it our own.
This is where we’ll rest while the world just passes by.
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