Little Truths

by Wild Sun

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04:01
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02:21
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04:05
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05:16
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04:09
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credits

released September 18, 2015

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Wild Sun Westerly, Rhode Island

Glenn Kendzia - Vocals, Guitar
Paul Fazio - Bass
Padraic Fazio - Drums

Wild Sun's original brand of psychedelic 90s rock have been getting crowds buzzed and breaking bar sales records. Debut album produced by Bryce Goggin out now on American Laundromat Records. ... more

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Track Name: Shy Hinges
Did I ever tell you how much I loved you?
If not, here’s a toast to that and the things I never did, too.
It’s just that, Poseidon is not on your mind when Dionysus slowly disrobes and crawls into your bed.

I’ve found myself on roads I swore that I’d never travel down.
I’ve drawn tired fists in the alleys of this town.
When the river gets low, you can bet I’ll swim before I drown.
I’ve built this home to stand tall, shy hinges and all.

Of all that I could take with me to my grave, the only thing I’ll bring along with me is the cleanest of slates.
Track Name: The Vacation
I took a little vacation. I stared at the kitchen floor.
I’m here, but I checked out—have you done that before?
Remember ten and the sadness of losing my first dog.
Oh but the tears they weighed more, once I learned to feel flawed.

I looked for truth like it was some kind of instinct.

Still we hang our dreams from broken windows, so some days shards of light are simply not enough.
Maybe “Next year will be better,” works for someone.
Where are you, my wild sun?

All the friends I’ve lost touch with over these years—
Will you get them on the line, please? I need to talk through these fears.
I’ll buy this miracle book, and go to the lectures too.
I’ll read quote after quote like I’ve been asked to do.

I’ve said the same shit too, in some form or another.
Track Name: Monterey
Sharing happy pills with a jailbait ragdoll,
She didn’t know my name, I didn’t know her age.
Sleepless nights in the pages of the “Lives of Saints,” —
You’d think by now that I’d know the rules.

Even now when I find stones unturned, I leave them all in their place.
I left notes for you in Monterey… like you’d read them anyway.

A bootlegging fisherman coming into fatherhood,
Describes his son, “I got a kid at the house.”
She was a headstrong suitor on a rigid course,
She was quick with wit and he was quick with a blouse.

Even now when I find stones unturned, I leave them all in their place.
I left notes for you in Monterey… like you’d read them anyway.


Even now when I find stones unturned, I leave them all in their place.
I could never leave Monterey, and you could never stay.
Track Name: Windowless Room
Everyone in this goddamn town is so concerned with what each other has done.
But pretty soon all your greatest moments will be stolen by some new young gun.
So, straight from me, I got myself in deep to a certain kind of sad malaise.
I’d take what pills whatever chemicals would buy me five out of this state.

Carry on, my friend, when it seems like I’ve lost it and I just can’t get out of my head.
Did I lose it for good? Beneath the floorboards, inside of this windowless room.

Tell myself, “Soon, I will get out of this room. I’ll find my footing and get back my step.” Though in time this becomes a lie, for a while it’s encouragement.
Made myself think it was the major leagues while throwing fastballs at a square in the fence.
Forgot my ideals and I lost my friends, I faked the very beat inside of my chest.

Carry on, my friend, when it seems like I’ve lost it and I just can’t get out of my head.
Did I lose it for good? Beneath the floorboards, inside of this windowless room.
Track Name: Amateurland
I wanted to get caught up in something that made me feel nothing,
I wanted to wake up and not give a damn about a damn thing at all.
So I could string words to the conversations I’ve not yet spoken
So I can waste time thinking how I will spend it when I get some.

I can’t remember how I got here in the first place—
It’s not like the pictures in the back of my head.
Choirs are screaming, “We’re just shy of heaven,”
Feels more like a poor man’s amateur land.

What happened to feeling secure in the arms of those old grand illusions?
I swear there was order, there was structure, there were forms of true authority.
Often I pity the jumpers but the courage to join them is fleeting,
Even when everything is a joke, I don’t have the heart to turn the joke on me.

Still, I can’t remember how I got here in the first place—
It’s not like the pictures in the back of my head.
Choirs are screaming, “We’re just shy of heaven,”
Feels more like a poor man’s amateur land.

I wanted to get caught up in something that made me feel nothing.
I wanted to wake up and not give a damn about a damn thing at all.
Now I’ve strung words into conversations — I’ll never speak them.
Often, I wonder if I got myself into this whole mess.
Track Name: Fishbowl Town
Put the pundits on an endless loop; they know more about you than you know about you.
A full newscast of every lover past, “She wasn’t his first, he wasn’t her last.”
It’s idle kind of thinking, but it’s second skin—we chastise our friends for the same damn things.
Watch your secrets become headlines, you’re a secondary source for your own life.

Can we do without the news? Don’t need to know who’s in cahoots with my brother.
It’s a fishbowl town so the word gets around before we’re even under the covers.
So none of us ever can get off easily.

Tie a paper trail to both of your feet, so I know all the things you’ve done before we even meet.
Sell your friends out over some drinks and tell me why they ‘re wrong, as if I cared what you think.
A spoken inventory of who is getting laid, while you’re thinking to yourself, “Wow, I bet it felt great.”
God forbid we draw the line.

Can we do without the news? Don’t need to know who’s in cahoots with my brother.
It’s a fishbowl town so the word gets around before we’re even under the covers.
So none of us ever can get off easily.
Track Name: Lonely Lips
Sink your teeth into my lips, and drag your nails across my skin.
Silhouette of a dress, nothing under it. The good lord is gonna make me pay for this.

I’ve been living in an endless night, since darkness left my side.
Her lonely lips killed every light.

Throw the bullshit on the floor. Who’s the sucker now, if it was me before?
Still, I act as though I only cut the cord just to hang myself with it once more.

I’ve been living in an endless night, since darkness left my side.
Her lonely lips killed every light.
Take a walk through life with everyone you know, remind yourself someday they all will die alone.
Track Name: Strict Vernacular
I woke up with a fever, getting sicker from the weight of this life
Love was a church that vied for my allegiance, as if I was gaining access to Christ.
You were the first to cut deep, I was blinded—so to speak— by the silence in your delicate eyes.
If in another life, I’d stand up and fight, but I‘m cut like a coward so I stayed by your side.

I’ve got boards and nails and ropes, but none can fix the shit you broke.
Why frame a soul, just to watch the whole thing explode?
You couldn’t explain yourself anymore.

To my friends, I’m a dweller—a sucker who kept only half of his heart.
They didn’t know your brand of evil, and despite it, try to love who you are.
My oversight, and loss I’d say, is outweighed by regret and by shame
So still I cringe on the sidewalks in public when someone else shares your name.

I’ve got boards and nails and ropes, but none can fix the shit you broke.
Why frame a soul, just to watch the whole thing explode?
You couldn’t explain yourself anymore.

I’ve got boards and nails and ropes, but none can fix the shit you broke.
Why frame a soul, just to watch the whole thing explode?
You couldn’t explain yourself anymore.

For my wife, I’m the husband that you always wanted me to be.
She looks to where my boots are pointed, despite the trails of footprints I see.
Our kids our strong—with features you’d admire—raised in strict vernacular.
In desolate moments, I wonder where I would be if you were who I thought you were.