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lyrics

You hide in plain view beyond the range of calendars and herbicides. Besides, your classmates are all alive, enlivening the hive we coincide.
Don't act surprised when I recognize the trope of regicide. Kings always die in line, they're wasted every time, fulminating in forgotten rhymes.

When did it get so hard for you to even start breathing again in the morning?

When last she flew she didn't wait for you to say "time flies." She had to get out of Atlanta, coming back home to Urbana, stayed just long enough to plan a move to Kalamazoo .And we knew. We waited on it but the feeling it just grew . . . and grew into a California stew. Our pockets are empty too, we know what to do. We know just what to do.

When did it get so hard for us to even try keeping our own secrets?

When did it get so hard for me to even start breathing again in the morning?

credits

from Feel the Summer's Heat EP, released July 10, 2012
Matt Cohn drums and percussion
Elizabeth Majerus bass and vocals
Matt Mitchell guitar and vocals

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Motes Urbana, Illinois

In the traditions of post-punk and dreampop, Motes' guitars are rhythmic and noisy, and their melodies are hushed and frail. The group is decidedly Midwestern, though, in their exploration of emotion through imagery and exposition. Their poetry has a kind of existential clarity; and sometimes, through layers and modulation, Motes get messy—but never miss the mark. ... more

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