This Space Will Accommodate Canvas EP

by Alta

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1.
2.
3.
04:26
4.
5.
03:14

about

credits

released 12 June 2011

Recorded in the chilly basement of Ryan Castelaz at Glass House Studios. Mastered by a sweet guy named Joey Moore.

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Track Name: Introspection I (amid the chaos)
Our time, we strive.
We’ll drive, our severed hands are bound as one.

Our thoughts, arise.
Unknown, once tightly closed, now bound with gold.
Our Gold.

Holding the foreman.
Your lies have been re-told.
Our love like arrows once kept.
Now we shoot.
Re-telling the fables,
The ones that you abled.
No longer the profit once kept,
now re-new'd.
Track Name: Introspection II (quiet quiet alone alone)
We've been through time, our words.
arise.
Track Name: UNI
The light has been casted, the space-ship has blasted.
Moshing your head to remove the water,
Blatantly plastered.

Dove in too deep. Band-aids from knees.
Blood from their caps, removed all their water.
Disease it sinks.

Whoo!
These words that are written, the ground is your limit.
These phrases are taken, your life has been shaken.

Every voice, unison.
Back in the corner.
Salt-water runs.
Emotion it cries, uni-cycle

Behind closed doors, we become ourselves.
The blood draws thick, never transfused.
These arts and these crafts, just when were they molded?

We stand as all but we’ll fall as one.

The center of attention.
Track Name: Dude, you look so 90's
Teeth set on edge.
Waits for the come-down.
Lost in the back-round,
Lost in the sound.

Eyes cold and bare.
The room was a spare.
Lost in the back-round,
Lost in the sound.

Three years in process.
Known to the public.
Libel like slander.
Drawn like a rubric.
Re-tell these stories.
To those who may care.
Ignoring the glances,
Of those who may stare.

Lost in the back-round.

Roads and autos, they all travel.
Destination our fascination.

Collect your belongings,
onto the next.
These things that you wished for,
This is the test.
Three years in process,
Traveled miles.
The presence in process,
All shall see.

Estoy perdido.
Track Name: Brostory
This house is now burning, world no longer turning.
We’re stranded, all sinning, wagering quitting.
We look at the dead, alive our heads.
The closure we need not planted like seeds.

No oxygen left, we look at what’s left.
In our homes, in our lives, reflecting on both sides.
Like flowers not blooming. The hell are we doing.
Just living with no need. No air, to feed, us.

The Lies, they are feeding. It seems like we’re needing.
Marching, the passage of fire. These wishes, wrong to desire.