Seven Inch

by Red Measure

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  • Digital Album

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1.
(free) 04:03
2.
(free) 03:13
3.
(free) 04:03

about

Self-released by Red Measure.

You are welcome to download any individual track for free. The entire EP is yours at the price of your choosing. If you're broke, it's yours for free. If you want to throw us a little somethin', any amount helps.

credits

released 20 September 2011
Randall Suarez - Guitar, Vocal
David Kanbergs - Bass
James Albright - Drums

Jeff Lipstein - Production
Matt Malikowski - Engineering

tags

license

all rights reserved

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Track Name: Parlor Pageant
The side of me grows
He's got a nicked up drum
It beats into the phone
Fluid into my lung

Far off and barren tones
Are rolling off my tongue
I never do know
Which way his teeth drag bones
Into night

I get weak when the sun doesn't come up
But he knows this is always my loss
Give me a cut - I am the wrong one

Mistaken needs go
Like hand without a thumb
It's taken me alone
With grace in endless numb
You never will know

I get clean when the sun doesn't come up
But he knows this is always my loss
Give me a cut - I'm the wrong one
Misguided, I sink into a color
Unaware of things under control now
Like slipping down until my brain drops

I am free when the sun doesn't come up
But he knows this is always my loss
Give me a cut - I'm the wrong one
Misguided I sink into a color
Unaware of things under control now
Like slipping down until my brain drops
Track Name: Walking on the Hill
I'm gonna sense too much
Black doors open up
The temple flames erupt
All your leaders stuck

I walk away undone
The punishment enough
And I'll be marching cuffed
As this slope runs up

The grass dying underneath the heat
Breeze not enough to bring me peace

There's a pain in us
No time to find the crutch
The memory is stuck

The clasp loosens up from my wrist
An archaic trust finds my grip
Another piece crushed to a mist
There's something simpler out of this
Track Name: Wall Patch Compound
Back up the wall
Let it slip outside
Built broken and tall
Forms no clear line

Wide Eyes get dropped
When their forms collide
Sign of something aloft
A façade of wise

Gun under law
Washing out under the cane
Fair skin is over cared for

Wild hands are coming out of sour mud
You've got scissors
But you don't know what to cut

Without a know of what needs to move on without hate
Forgery storm swinging out front
It wields a fine rake

Weak Trees trailing immature old blood
Good reason to pull down the shutters
Sly dogs were watching after
Those cut lose from the shelter