My trouble needs another cigarette
Walk me out the club so we can speak
My panic needs another sleeping pill
He keeps a nine stuffed in the sheets
My bedroom door keeps blowing open
A cold, black iris staring in
I try to leave but I am frozen
By the chains of my own sin
I told her what I really wanted
She told me what I really need
I clicked a button and she noticed me
Played me back, quantized, repeat
I gave her all my empty pleasure
I filled a mold that makes me feel
I let her make the right decision
So I don’t have to choose what’s real
Philadelphia's Starkey operates in his own head-spinning sonic universe, blending laser-like pinpricks of sound with tripping rhythms. Bandcamp New & Notable Sep 10, 2016