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Some Voids​.​.​.

by Gutless

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  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    Bust out your discman, cause you can now listen to Some Voids... on a CDs like it's the early 2000s baby!!! Comes in a full color, slim, disc jacket with art by Vi Viana and a photograph by Mark Giarrusso.

    "Every track on this short-but-sweet five song record is utterly fantastic... So far, I’d rate this as one of the best albums of 2017." - LVL To The Room

    Includes unlimited streaming of Some Voids... via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
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1.
Nestzzz 01:55
Lacking patience and in a tired state, I flew from these abandoned scraps that I once called a nest. The cold air just made me more afraid That once I made it to my old home I'd still leaving was for the best. But I've grown tired of fleeing. Now it's all I know. In the palms of a feeder, With exhausted wings and unsure of where to go. And I think about the lovers who'd write their names in locks to leave them At the Queensboro bridge for the runners and their peripheral vision. And I think about that love painting the city like graffiti, And It makes me miss you so much that my heart begins to hurt.
2.
Attached 03:29
You're so close and yet so far, My hand is out to hold yours, my lips are stitched and shut. I'm so sick of the garbage around me. And I'm losing my shit cause there's a storm (there's a storm). Sand and leaves fly my direction. My clothes fleet far from their basket. It's not like I had any plans, too busy drowning in my passion: A thankless job that gets the best of me. And I'm so fucking scared (so fucking scared) that I'm becoming a ball of anxiety, And I just make all of you nervous. My friends have dirty looks. They look so tired. So why would I put them through more? It will not die. I have to fight. And I'm getting really sick of how I always feel the need to get drunk In order to feel at ease around people who care about me. And there are days I wake up and I feel like I'm done, Like I'm living towards living along in a box. But now I know what needs to be done, I'll ditch the things I wanna be and I'll work with what I am. The destination; it feels so close and yet so far. And I know that it sounds strange but I've always loved Thursdays Because they're usually attached with that feeling that something great will finally happen. And nothing will stop it.
3.
Burned old journals when I felt a crushing shame begin to sear. Started sweeping up the ashes of forgotten wasted years. It's so appalling, but some voids just cannot be filled at all. Throw me another curveball. Made a promise to myself: to bite my tongue through echoed wounds. Made another promise that I would not stay hidden for so long. Repress confusion. If my shroud comes off, we'll be pulled apart. Grown ashamed of all the arrows in my heart. No one is counting the backwards steps we've taken. Gone nearly silent, still we guard up. Through smothered voices we distort past afflictions. Remove each other from a sense of self. No one is counting the backwards steps we've taken. Gone nearly silent, still we guard up. Through smothered voices we distort past afflictions. Remove each other from a place where we felt whole and safe, before we learned we didn't know ourselves.
4.
Always getting by with borrowed guitar amps And constant dependency on the success of friends, Friends I hardly talk to. Dismissing ambition, having a bowl, drinking a steely. Safe and sound. Yet I worry about mom's back pains, and I worry about the drugs my siblings take when I'm not around. Nothing feels as good as screaming and watching the haunted disappear. And I've been meaning to go dancing. Ventured into the city alone, wishing you were here with me. I get drunk at 3 then wake up at 7 from the shouting and laughing. I get up and I envy their energy. And I always thinking about the friends who disappeared, and not the ones around. So why would you put up with me? Why would you give me a place to sleep? I don't think I want you to. Nothing feels as good as screaming and watching the haunted disappear. And I've been meaning to go elsewhere. Cause we got places to see, and I don't think that we're the kind of people we want to be. Wasting away in our apathy. So fuck the shame prescribed to us by chodes, fuck us for calling to up the dose. And I drew a picture of our old house, which is such a poor cliché but there's so many memories I'd like to browse Through, in hopes that I'd find something That our parents threw away the night you learned how sad they'd get when you would sing. And I've got a list of ills that I have long considered I should leave behind.
5.
The Breaker 03:59
Shut the door, you don't have to see me Wrapped in a sheet of idle self-pity. Don't want you to see me half-dead on the floor. My screaming is muffled, my eyes have been dried. And it feels like a fever That I rarely wake from. Don't think that I hate you, I'm dying to see you, But it feels like if I leave I'll be swallowed whole. I wanted to go to the show but my fears are too large, I'm too little to fight them. I know you don't get it. I wish I did too. This is the breaker, it tears you apart. It blacks out your blood and drains your weak-willed heart. There's no friend to turn to, there's no hand to reach. Depression is far too demanding of me. So I took a hard look At how much better you handled growing up, And how every major plan I had dissolved into dust. Living life alone and faceless, I'm ready to escape this But I feel like a hostage. This is the breaker, it tears you apart. It tests all your passions and your sense of pride. No one here to listen, no one I can seek. Depression is far too demanding of me. Whoa oh oh oh oh's I'm held hostage by me.

credits

released March 16, 2017

Recorded and mixed by Rob McGregor at Goldentone Studios in Gainesville, FL.

This record was performed by:
Vi Viana - lead vocals, guitar, piano, synth, glockenspiel
Andrew Martin - bass, vocals
Tim McGowan - drums, vocals
Cory Quimby - guitar, vocals

Featuring:
Alex Lukasik - cello on track 5
Sim Morales - vocals on tracks 1, 2 and 5
Alumine Soto - guitar and vocals on track 5

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Gutless Florida

Multilingual Latina Queer Indie Punk from FL/NY/PHL

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