passing showers


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jeff kurosaki / guitar
kate larson / drums
tara pelletier / bass, vocals


released September 2, 2015

recorded and mixed by "studio magic ears" ♥ matt ross ♥



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REAL THINGS Accord, New York

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Track Name: Let's Go
clouds move across your smile,
dancing without power.
forget grey days, slow times
are a whisper to the sublime.

let’s dream.
pretend we’re free.
see the beasts haunt our sleep.
let’s return to being good.
better eyes on a rosy world.

my two friends are so sad.
unhappy with all they have.
breathe for the sake of more.
where’s the reason in that?

let’s dream
pretend we’re free
see the beasts haunt our sleep
let’s return to being good
better eyes on a rose world.

in the wind it’s a gamble.
grass blowing me out of my head.
baby let’s go, let go of all we know.
Track Name: The Cave
tell me where we go when we’re cold.
tell me who we are when we’re grown.
tell me who we call when we’re alone.
who we love is who we are.

tell me who dreamt of gold, too cold to hold.

listen to the empty wind blow by.
listen to the years, borrowed time.
listen to your tear filled eyes.
who we love is who we are.

tell me who dreamt of gold, too cold to hold.
Track Name: Millhouse
at war with wanting more
in this endless day where i’ll never die, but still grow old

keep you happy to keep you.
he inches over you, a storm.
i am an empty field with [nothing].

put down your naive dreams, grab hold of the day.
blame it on me.

so kind, so full thought, he wears me down.
like an animal gnawing at it’s cage
he wants [more].
i am lost, i stop.
i go.

put down your naive dreams, grab hold of the day.
don't blame it on me.
Track Name: Surf
i’ve bled on streets breathing the heat.
i’ve looked for hunters of hearts.
deserted beauty in my eyes, glazed over.
an image of tomorrow un-found.

stones sink into waves, the water is cold.

i’ve burnt my tongue on harsh words sung.
i've lent my hand to cradle the sun.
this broken day, forgot it’s poem.

stones sink into waves, the water is cold.
there is a low hum of silence, it might be the way quiet sounds.
a featherweight pile on your eardrum, the sound of matter breaking down.
hot concrete and a stale breeze, contemplate eternity.
measure me as a lead you to dream frivolously.
the crack and sway above our head, the rain sings to the street.
a rare Northeastern earthquake and all we have left behind.

things we’ve left behind, they stay around here.

paint your whim and carve a home, count the beat of a still heart.
hear the grass as it grows, dance all night to work at dawn.