Songs of Acceptance

by Quiet Clouds

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1.
03:28
2.
04:22
3.
05:45
4.
05:48
5.
04:16
6.
03:53
7.
8.
07:27

credits

released 22 June 2012
Arnold Francisco - Guitar
Ronnie Francisco - Drums
Luke Moses - Bass
David Settle - Guitar/Vocals
Caitlin Dunn plays harp on First Sight and Untitled, and sings on Breathe
Mick Tanglao plays piano on The Seasons Never Change Around Here
A lot of really awesome people provided group vocals for First Sight and Untitled

Recorded and mixed by David Settle, February-June 2012 at St. Anger House
Photos by Whitney Borkowski
Design and Layout by Mick Tanglao
Thank you.

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Track Name: Endless
I think we've forgotten what it means to be alive when there is no time left to breathe. Please take these weights off of my feet. There is no time that I see when I can breathe. There is no time left to breathe. There is no time left to breathe.
Track Name: First Sight
After locked eyes, one of us fell apart. The other continued on. Nothing changed. Sometimes it's harder to sense insincerity than it should be. Sometimes it's easier to misread reality. Sometimes it's easier to misread the truth. Sometimes it's easier to infer non-existent interest. Let go.
Track Name: Apparitions
I look up and see you in the empty space between the walls and my face. I want to sing you the words of songs that bare your name, that take your place. But the words just disappear, because you are never here. I wake up in a room that knows no names, in a house that holds no blame. I only listen to those songs that take your place, that bare your name. But the words just disappear, because you are never here.
Track Name: Breathe
I no longer can breathe. The shapes and colors have drawn me in. I no longer can breathe. The shapes and colors have drawn me closer. I no longer can breathe. The shapes and colors have drawn me.
Track Name: The Seasons Never Change Around Here
This summer weighs. Bring better days. When the cold air takes hold there will be no reason to hide covering up.
Track Name: Re-Entry
Floating, weightless against the fall. When transmissions meet their mark, words wade between the burden and the spark. Hours fall by the wayside while lives pass on with no regard. Standing, static against the tide. When transmissions meet their mark, words wade between the burden and the spark. Hours fall by the wayside while lives pass on with no regard. The sequence breaks like bending waves.