Songs For The Cold (March)

by Weatherer

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about

Transition:
" movement, passage, or change from one position, state, stage, subject, concept, etc., to another; change: the transition from adolescence to adulthood."

When evaluating the passage of time and the evolution of someone it is worth noticing that the past version of that person are often discarded, left in journals or dairies to be found in 20 years in a box in the basement, but what if that old skin, those old perspectives could be kept alive, chronicled in a healthy way. The idea of a monthly "Soul Rent" is just that. Releasing a number of songs (between 3 & 12) that are all written and recorded in a span of two months and released on the first or second Tuesday in the second month. This is an attempt to create a linear discography that can show the arch of our consciousness in this very transitional time in our lives. It can create a healthy perspective for us as musicians to get these songs finished and out of our cluttered heads, and hopefully create some music that can be enjoyed by you as well!

credits

released March 12, 2013

Ben Socofolofsky- Guitar, Bass, Prod.
Elias Armao- Guitar, Drums, Vox, Prod.
Trey Pernell- Vox on the Mother
Ryan MacGilvray- Trumpet on Don't-Rag and Dr. Yolo Swaggins Ph.D.

Elias's neighbors and parents that put up with the constant drumming and noise! Thank you!

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Weatherer Denver, Colorado

Weatherer is a band based out of Denver, CO. Thanks for being here. Have a listen, if you like what you hear keep it, if not send it right back.

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Track Name: ... I Think There Are Holes In My Socks
Mother please forgive me, I know you didn't mean for the world to find me, I'm just here to decide the volume and the language in which the voice of reason's speaking.

But we've got expensive taste in blood, seemingly clean hands but minds nearly undone. Would someone sensitize me because I'm full of hot air, a balloon floating over nowhere.

So spend an afternoon with yourself, if you were brand new to this world would you really want to spend time with you?

Oh how the words allude their meaning, makes me wonder if I'm planting seeds on salted ground. Because I could paint you a bright red picture, and you could still see blue, yeah you could still see blue.

So spend an afternoon with yourself, if you were brand new to this world would you really want to spend time with you? So spend time with you.
Track Name: Dr. Yolo Swaggins Ph. D.
The rug they said would be there forever has since been pulled out from under. So cut your hair, and shave your face. To keep your decay at a glacial pace.

Because I tried to cook the books to something that adds up, in the light. (Yeah there's got to be something casting these shadows) I'm not looking for the answers, just better questions. So save me the speech, because I'd rather be sleeping.

So tell me are you, fuckin' with it? Make sure you find someone to take you home, god forbid you spend a night alone. (selfish animals) because there ain't no honor between you and me, (selfish animals) because you look like a thief and you act like one too, (selfish animals) yeah I'm angrier than I'm leading on, (we're just selfish animals).

Coffee keeps me awake long enough for me to wish that I was sleeping. Because your body might be a temple but I can tell you mine's a casino.

And I tried to cook the books to something that adds up, in the light. (Yeah there go to be something casting these shadows) I'm not looking for the answers, just better questions so save me the speech because I'd rather be sleeping.
Track Name: Mild Mannered White People
I assume that I know all about you, and you assume the same about me. And we're so sure that what we've heard about each other is an irrefutable fact. Strangers with familiar faces, belligerently telling me they love me. And I've begun to doubt that a drunk man's words are always a sober mans thoughts.

So to whom do I owe my grief over this? And to whom do I owe my secrets? Cause I've got secrets, and my secrets are like nails for a mattress.

It's safe to say, that lately I have not been the morning person I once was. I'll lay in bed for what feels like a hour trying to find a good reason to put pants on. No I'm not proud of where my heads been but I'd be damned if I'd say I haven't tried to come to, and I meant every word that I said to you, yes I meant every word that I said.

So to whom do I owe, my grief over this? And to whom do I owe my secrets? 'Cause I've got secrets, and my secrets are like nails for a mattress.
Track Name: Scubadiver
Talking through tin cans, speaking volumes through warm hands. Hopefully we'll learn to let it be. Behind bathroom doors, strangely accurate graffiti yeah it seems to me the writing's on the wall.

We talked the politics of getting older, and danced around the point of no return. But we are the ones that walk in the world but dance in our arms.

I was born a romantic but I think I'll die a realist, because haste isn't paid to those who can afford it, and it seems like we've spent so much time aboard the thought of the port that this will end in, but the space in between has been neglected and it seems that life is what happens while your busy making other plans.

Been ashamed for a while now, been afraid of running aground, my mouths been making promises that I don't think that my ass can keep. Let it pre-suppose, like circles do. Because the script went out the window with the so blue. And what if I told you that you were the source of the strength that you think that I give you.
Track Name: Dont-Rag
Tangled in my hands, one of man's best layed plans, but they turned states evidence against me. Sitting on the floor, this room's never looked like this before, because its cold outside in ways I can't explain.

White crosses on the doors, no one lives here anymore, yeah they went the ways of passing trains but it's strange. That I'm alright, that I'm OK with these sleeping dogs at me feet.

Your calls for reform, were rail road tie pillows, and nights spent home alone with your demons. There nothing for me here but I'm scared to death my dear, because new things are by origin confusing.

Born of machines, we must find our humanity; in love and trust and other drugs. But I'm alright, yeah I'm just fine, but I can't carry you.
Track Name: The Mother (Feat. Trey Pernell)
From her demeanor it was easy to tell she’s a raver
man you would meet her and then fall for her rancid behavior
cus from her birth she had been falling, nobody would save her
adoption the saving option it looked bad on paper,
so she was dancing and prancing to pretty, pretty lights
tumbling outside to rumble in petty kitty fights
heels soaked in beer, and raver’s party sweat
she looked in mirrors and saw that she had hardly met
herself, but then she saw that product on the shelf
and in a minute she forgot about her friends as well
she’d taken shots at life if life was in a liquid form
the moment she was born strife and scorn became her norm
and she adorned painful piercings on her everywhere
loving every glance, every look, and every stare
although she’d try to prove to you that she didn’t care
she had blue hair, to prove… that she was there.

There is no country for one man armies, no comfort in reckless anger and since there's no union for lost souls I will covet the lines I've drawn.

So when Johnny, rolls into town
With his black rimmed glasses, and marijuana crown
Promising every girl, all of his attention
Mentioned his band in every other sentence
Knocking em dead, with his blue green eyes
And his sincere smile, that tries to hide
That he’s really just any other guy with pride
when she met him she had thought true love at sight
(q)Like the, angels above loved her today
like finally she thought her awful luck had swayed
but, she couldn’t see his ability to persuade
in any manner and way, every method to get laid
so she was totally his, when he was fake
a recipe for disaster, waiting to bake
because she wasn’t exactly in the healthiest state
raised by hate when her heart snaps, her brain breaks.

There is no country for one man armies, no comfort in reckless anger and since there's no union for lost souls I will covet the lines I've drawn.

From the scene, you could tell that the struggle was brutal
man You could see that she had found that her scissors were useful
cus From the start, it had been laden with awful intentions
Violence broke the silence of all of their tensions
So Johnny laid on the floor, in broken, shiny glass
A bag covering his bruised body beat and gashed
You can imagine all his other lovers were aghast
To find that Johnny was a cheater after he had passed
But she was fast, and figured it out while he was breathing
And so the crazy raver dancing girl began conceiving
Of which way she’d like more to see him bleeding
And leading him on calling him over one evening
Leaving such a seductive message he had to go
Ignorant that he’d be receiving, several seething blows
Imagine his terror, with her screaming and running mascara
Being aware of how his karma had flowed.