COAL (Live) - Storefront Church

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  • Опубліковано 22 кві 2024
  • Guitar - Waylon Rector
    Piano - Alex Fischel
    Violin - Violet Tang
    Bass - Daniel Rhine
    Drums - Andrew Maguire
    Vocals - Lukas Frank
    Mixed by Daniel Knowles
    Production company - SNAKK @snakkstudio
    Executive Producer - Anton Melekh @antonmelekh
    Creative Producer - Yan Bokhanovich @yanchi
    DP - Marc Miller @millermarc
    Steadicam - Stan Vaganov @steadistan
    Gaffer - Roman Dosumov @mrgrip.pro
    1AC - David Hachuns @david_hachuns
    2AC - Sadedin Nuraliev @thesadedin
    Post-production - SNAKK @snakkstudio
    Venue - Lodge Room @lodgeroom
    Special thanks - Konstantin Karpeev @marty_rush
    COAL
    rudderlessness in west-divide’s
    capsized boat
    the sail pulls us all in
    what carried us once now drags us down
    happily useless
    I sleep among the trees
    one quarter on each eye
    I’ll be carried up by the bees
    coal is an old white man
    with a broken goose-neck
    pushing balls of blood and shit
    up the hill to roll them back down
    last car on the pyre now
    three rungs and we’ll be there
    to crawl across the thoroughfare
    to pirouette through sedan-air
    I am a little man
    with butterfly wings!
    I am a carousel
    catch the golden ring!
    the Botticelli angel
    leapt into the volcano
    now everything around her
    searches and flounders
    in front of the concentration camps
    we’ve got drive-in movies
    Displays of American heroism
    rigid brawn is death’s best friend
    St. Francis descends with wings of picket fence
    prosthetics down his whole left side
    he says there’s nothing to be angry about
    you are the channel change it now
    celluloid hands ran
    the ropes back to dry land
    they heaved until the city would stand
    I watched as they made the stars of bone
    there’s nothing to be angry about
    wealth suspends me in midair
    I stack up all the loathsome cars
    and turn them into rungs to God
    I am a little man
    with butterfly wings
    I am a carousel
    catch the golden-
    History’s underwater
    Remember it how you want it
    My credit here is spotless
    for all pernicious nonsense
    tortured by the same dream
    the money in the rind
    they handed you an ice cream
    you fortified the line
    you were never ordered
    had nothing here to lose
    an infant with the last word
    delivered with a noose
    you can’t get any older
    your children’s bloody shoulders
    you half-dead fucks will just
    keep rolling up the boulder
    keep rolling up the boulder
    keep rolling up the boulder

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