You were talking to the girl you always meet, when I stole your thunder with an ass slap.
So now that all your small talk is complete.
All you’re really left with here is me, just me.
Saying what I see.
And doing what I feel.
‘Cos there’s no line to cross.
So why do you take it so personally?
I would find it funny if you’d lie down there on the floor so I can pass by.
I’m sick and tired of holding in my breath. When you’re standing near me with your brain dead look.
I am here for me.
I’m looking out for none.
Apart from number one.
I’ve got a suggestion. Just go down with your ship.
And let it go one day. Let got of your ropes or I will cut them.
And I’ll provide you with your pinch of salt. If I can rub it in your wounds of old.
The timing of your watch is slowing down.
I get it though you’re trying to catch me out.
With their blend of playfulness and graduate-level instrumentation, Dorcha deftly prove that improvisational zeal and conservatory-level precision aren't mutually exclusive. Bandcamp Album of the Day Nov 16, 2020