Horns, sounding down the valleyside
Massive cream colored wings, kicking mist
As their tips graze the ocean
We welcome them as gods
Pale faced and shimmering skin
Tall as two of ours
Forelegs stretched to the Earth
They made their presence felt
Their thunder strikes us down
And forced our lips to the ground
Killed my people, took my home
And tied me in this cold heavy rope
Our resilience has been tarnished
As we make way for these generations of hardship
The NYC trio push their blown-out garage-blues sound into new territory, on both reinterpreted classics and originals. Bandcamp New & Notable Mar 5, 2019