(Let's go to the beach,
Sweet taste of release on my tongue
Let's escape the now
And the salt will heal our wounds)
Summertime of desperation, frustration
Wander into an old fantasy
Summertime, My face is sweaty
There's nothing good about this heat
It reminds of reality
The sun beams are pounding on my head
My eyes are clammy, humid, seeing red
Flies circling shit / I admit / That I might have missed it
But only for a second
There's nothing good about this heat
It reminds me of reality
Hell
Let's go to the beach,
The waves will immerse our agony
Let's escape the now
And the salt will heal our wounds
It sounds like you
It feels like treason
Nothing ever changes except the seasons
I'm walking on sunshine and it burns my feet
There's nothing good about this heat
Hell
Wife Patrol make instantly catchy alt rock with streaks of punk, new wave, and metal, overlaid with Bangles-esque harmonies. Bandcamp New & Notable Aug 20, 2020