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lyrics

Phoenix, 1872
The year I left you, my love,
I will send you the goodwill of a dove,
And I will lay roses at your feet,
As your heart falls through your stained teeth,
Your head was beautiful as it filled with flame,
And your eyes spoke sweet words as flowers circled your head,
The coyote is never tamed, and love is best kept within your stomach,
For the cacti walk the desert alone at night,
As the Anasazi roam their haunts,
I peer into the darkness of the Sonora,
And my flickering eyes look back

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from All the Pretty Little Horses (Demo EP), released October 29, 2013

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Buitre Glendale, Arizona

Aggressive punky folk and strange experimental folk hailing from the the urban necropolis of Phoenix, Arizona and it's barren suburbs. Dry, dead, and blunt, just like the Sonora.

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