counting backward
as if to trick the ticking second hand to stop
by the time we realize we could just stop watching the clock
the watch unworn, we traded in for a compass
(en route)
we, for all the hours
wasted retracing our steps back to where
an axis, on which all our latitudes seemed so longitudinal,
is never drawn to scale,
still fail
navigating our horology with nothing but an atlas
to map out all the topography and still get lost
we, for all the miles
wasted recounting our bent to err,
off axis spin out so our latitudes seem so longitudinal
for all the secondhand embarrassment, to keep
noticing we’re still walking backwards
an axis never drawn to scale
leaves plenty of room for when we fail
Rising UK trio FES balance math rock's instrumental mischief with pop punk's anthemic sweetness for a distinctive, endearing sound. Bandcamp New & Notable May 4, 2022