I eat this cake alone in the snow.
Grandma’s best, soothes the chest.
Winter smokestacks blow so high.
The red and gold try to lead the rest.
Venom, venom, venom skies
Don’t you feel freedom when you’re led so wise.
Venom, venom, venom skies.
Venom, venom, venom skies.
Brutal boxes, brutal sighs
Venom windows to the venom skies.
To hole your way through the deafening hunger
Is to purge the lungs of collective demise.
Venom, venom, venom lies
Don’t you feel freedom when you’re led so wise.
Venom, venom, venom skies
Venom, venom, venom skies.
Selvas, soledad.
Selvas, soledad.
Selvas soledad venom skies.
Muñecas on tree lines
Muñecas on tree lines
The seas were bridged by the venom skies.
Don’t you feel the freedom when you’re led so wise?
Venom, venom, venom skies.
Venom, venom, led so wise.
British folk musician Tom Nash built these delicate and moving songs around a broken harmonium, allowing its limitations to open up worlds. Bandcamp New & Notable Oct 12, 2021
Newcastle, Australia's e4444e instills his airy indie pop with baroque flair and swooning psychedelic swells for a fluid, infectious affair. Bandcamp New & Notable Jul 19, 2020