Get all 5 Pastel Hell releases available on Bandcamp and save 10%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Charm Machine, Ruthie, Cherished Abuse, Endless Righteous Mourning, and Welcome (Demonstration).
1. |
Life's On Fire
05:38
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If your lifeâs on fire
Then you donât need warmth
I got a funny one for ya
I was never in love
You see itâs fools that play
these foolish games
then they come around cryin
After seeing that big ol bill of goods
From the highest mount in Zion
Oh I just canât
I canât even look you
In those brutal brown eyes
Anymore
Courbet could paint you
the marigold light
On the whore
The wounded man
& his sword
If your lifeâs on fire
Then you donât need warmth
Your throat is a coil of coal
Where your lies await birth
See itâs fools that sing
For the love of song
Iâm always catchin em cryin
After every single sun goes down
Like itâs never Comin back again
I just canât
I canât even thank you
For these measly loose alms
Though Iâm poor
The truth does outrank you
No matter what you choose
To ignore
The wounded man
& his sword
Picture us
A bit of dancing
As our cats meow
We move so slow
That we could crystallize
Before any goodbyes
Are owed
Oh just your luck
Itâs me again you found
At the end of the road
Fumbling matchless
Biting my last smoke
Waiting for the goodbye
Iâm owed
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2. |
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Itâs all gone
& itâs beautiful
I am cradled away from sin
Warm, without defense
The way Iâd hold a friend
Honey itâs nothing new
Just clear now whatâs always been
Grateful for my shadow
A pleasure, the dance we borrowed
Oh if you wake up shocked
My love thatâs on you
I no longer seek answers
All the colors cancel to blue
Iâm not your one true
One true love
Iâm not sure anyoneâs anyonesâ
Heaven can be so hard
Shivered shoulders toward the cross
Maybe I missed your magic
Always making my next move
Maybe my wisherâs wish
Is just wasted
Wasted
On you
All I wish to keep
Is a chance for myself
One horizon to believe in
Until the next dinner bell
Dance for the flame
And wait to be purged there
White horse,
Red horse,
Black horse,
Pale
The morning star hung, motherless
The bright bastard as witness
While the drowning sailors flail
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3. |
Change My Attitude
04:50
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I know youâve come to collect
I donât want it free
And I donât want it easy
Always ends up lonely like that
Flip your cross
& color your hair
& quiet the Brighton baby
She cries
too much
for me
One more one more
His thirst
is at his core, darling
Satisfied by nothing less
Than the request for a reprieve
Flip the switch
& braid my hair
& quiet your biting mind
That heartâs lonely on its sleeve
So lonely that I forget
I donât care
I donât care
About you anymore
Hurts these days
To look around
The good ones came & went
Summer sings
A damaged sound
Now sheâs my only friend
You just canât do nothin
Too bad to her
She donât even want respect
Itâs like she was born
With hands wrapped around her neck
I know youâve come to collect
apologies
& just shy of 10 gâs
I always meant to pay you back
I donât mean to be rude
But the moon stays blue
Until thine eyes can see
The only one who knew
how to change my attitude
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4. |
False Prophet Days
03:23
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I canât
Carry mine
No not one more mile
For these false prophet days
I donât wanna
Give credit to ya
If I do not have to
All the unwilling change
No, you donât matterâŠ
Hey, but neither do I
There are always people laughing
At the things that make me cry
I canât
Carry mine
No not one more mile
For these false prophet days
They donât like it
When you find for yourself
A reason to cheers
With no expectation
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5. |
Taste Your Hate
04:50
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///
Got your kicks so far
(But) donât be late
His grip feels like fire
Donât be late
///
The hope
it tolerates you now
But even the best get found out
The masque that you staged unspools
The last call light
Can be so cruel
Our sickness thrives in silence
But moves like spring
Toward a bloom
A metal musk
Pervades
& I believe
That I can taste your hate
Taste your hate
Nice of you
To keep us in your thoughts
If I canât blame you
Please tell me where to start
Just deny until you die
What of the white bread?
& what of the rye?
One by one
We just canât have no fun
Up in America
Land of theâŠ. (gun)
The soap
It separates you now
Between the clean
& dirty-mouthed
Arenât there kids no more?
In those quiet houses
The privilege thrives in silence
Did you blow through
Your allowance?
Call a spade a spade
I can taste your hate
Tastes like lead
Nice of you
To keep us in your prayers
If I canât blame you
Please tell me where to stare
Oh itâs the same dream every night
In-Cel Santa, by computer light
Polishing his .45
Five by five
Ah ah ah stayin alive
Up in Americay
Land of the Gunslingers
Frozen in fear
Frozen in time
Odds are youâll find us
In any randomly-chosen headline
Let Rambo recline
In the home of the depraved
One day that red star will shatter
On a day you saved for Jesus
While we weary heathens battle on
In search of the soil
That shall receive us
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6. |
Queen of the Stables
05:08
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The one that wants you
Carries your flowers
I bought some too
Theyâve been dead for hours
Been alone too long to learn
All those days in Carolina
They must still make you smile
In your sad-eyed New York way
Every rodeo clown in a puddle
In the corner of your country house
humdinger of a rumspringa babe
Your obit will be above the foldâ
âWidowmaker with a heart of goldâ
Fuck em if they canât take a joke
I donât mind
This dark wasted hour
I donât even think the sun will know
All my weaknesses
Just give you power
I canât be angry
When you do all my blow
Your dark cloud is coming over
And I donât mind the rain
I hope it stays for days
The one I want to carry my child
I knew who she was for a while...
I donât mind
This dark wasted hour
I donât even think the sun will know
All my weaknesses
Just give you power
I canât be angry
When you do all my blow
Your dark cloud is coming over
And I donât mind the rain
I hope it stays for days
Now the cowboys are cryin
They donât like to lose the reins
I hope you never change
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7. |
@ the Bar
03:38
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Iâm sat next to my least favorite fabulist
And still
Itâs better than going home
Each paint layer thick
with an annual death wish
Each sip
A pitiful loan
Too much salt
& too much earth
Itâs nobodyâs fault
Tâwas a curse from birth
Spines curled
Hands folded
Almost in prayer
These reprobates
Never miss a service here
His voice is strong
And he knows my name
And Iâm thinkin
He might know my place too
Each step toward the chance
At the light or the love
Is a stutter
That leads to a bruise
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