The group is litfire under by the energetic and intricate drumming of Gary Paddock and shaken by Ryan Troughton's six-string bass, which he utilizes to bridge high and low tones through his two handed finger-tapping style. The melodic and intense guitars of Jon Pidgeon and Kyle Robinson-Young vibrate between good and evil, eclipsing the typical structure of rhythm and lead guitar. Ben's words and melodies are the drawn image of the mind, manifested as the eyes, blue and clear, harmed but on the mend, honest windows
welcoming those who seek healing
to join us, to be exposed.
We were not meant to live in shadow.
to be fulfilled
a boy yells out in a silent town
just loud enough to rouse the sleepers,
enough to draw one out to close a window.
so many dwelling in displeasure, twice subtracted—
once in birth, once more as we mature,
only quicker, more merciful the first;
if only we would nurture our nature (honestly),
but instead we've got our footsies dragging, dehumaned,
masked animals—some stuck bulls, whimpering pups with no mothers,
exceptional mimes, brilliant hues, faces painted in all shades
and shapes, and some so richly as to never allow
one to look upon their bareness—
such sad creations.
here is a fence of rotten plank, nearer collapsing, quite so exhausted.
your burden will topple you, if you don't learn to lean.
you are all who needs protecting, so go lay down.
the gate is missing, but you belong here.
so enter.
a bucket of paint is spilled out white upon the lawn,
leads out as independent streams would,
shallow pools of danger and unsurety, placed to be found
astray between the tallgrass,
mimicked in the creases of your hand:
true experiences.follow.
why won't you yell out?
we are all listening at our windows
for one to speak for us.