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Modern alternative rock meets classical, with experimental twists here and there.
Our new album, "The Mourning After," is now online! Check it out! If you would like a physical copy, contact me at . It'll also show up on iTunes soon. It is similar to the first album but features much better production and generally more rocking songs. It again features David Pinsof on guitars, me (Ben Hantoot) on vocals and synths (though David sings "Seams" and "Venetian Airs"), and Eli Halpern behind the poetic lyrics. We're very proud of this one and hope you feel the same. If you'd like to license a song or contract us for original compositions, please, shoot me an email! Enjoy!!
Song Info
Genre
Alternative • Other Alternative
Charts
Peak #330
Peak in subgenre #43
Author
Ben Hantoot, Eli Halpern, David Pinsof
Uploaded
January 18, 2006
Track Files
MP3
MP3 7.1 MB • 128 kbps • 7:33
Lyrics
I light up slow, I shield the glow, before it dies, before it dies. In the cold air, the flame is weak, the infant smoke, the infant night. I only see some of the flakes; the rest depart, the rest depart. I only know my cigarette; and when it dies, so I will die. The... world... rotates off its axis... Spinning off into the universe, it moves through the stars seeking a home, but it only finds the coldest places... Until one day it finds a cigarette cast out from perhaps an astronaut, and it begins to orbit the glow... Inhaling the fumes it becomes addic- ted... My mother feared love's thinning bones; they rest in her, they rest in her. Sometimes at night I'd wake to hear the desp'rate wind, the ent'ring wind. Open the shades, look through the glass, my mother wakes, my mother walks. I look away, when I look back, my mother's gone; a trail of smoke. The... world... rotates off its axis... Spinning off into the universe, it passes along the open shapes of planets twisting like organs into space. The world finds a figure moving in the clouds of a cold nebula; she moves in a path of ancient smoke, haunted by a child watching through a win... dow... The cigarette drains back on me; I curl away, my shell recedes. It leaves me bare; I stand in snow. Or is it ash, or is it ash? My... world... rotates off its axis... finds its place inside the storied wormholes. I gather all the folds of space, and within them I find my solace. Back on earth the cigarette is burning its last, and from the sky the birds see the final glow from my mouth, leaving me to rest with my revolving thoughts, and revolving birds and all that moves and dies...
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