Marmalade from Laundry Room by The Red Scare

The illusion's more present than the man
The dusty photograph's more heavy than the hand
And I know
That the conversation's stillborn on the phone
And that Ithaca always moves on

You can stake a claim, but the Earth is not your own
There's no seed you could plant that would turn this to a home
And I know
That our names on the grave may be the same
But stone still always wears away

Now I'm not bitter
About the mistake
When your life's an error you gain
An ugly kind of faith
In the passing of the age
And the moss grown on the grave
And the naming of the change

Oh Marmalade

• Alternative
• drinking music
• garage punk
• post-punk
• surfy
• Fort Collins