Hole in the World

by colourful hill

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Purchase this album on CD or Cassette: colourfulhill.storenvy.com


released June 18, 2016

Recorded in May 2016 at The Closet Studios in Bixby, Oklahoma
Engineered, mixed, and mastered by Jacob Michael Scott
All music, lyrics, and artwork by Tyson Luneau



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colourful hill West Springfield, Massachusetts

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Track Name: Arm's Length
I put up walls around my head, thick concrete no one can penetrate. I've built this palisade around my brain to keep my acquaintances at bay. Habit of confinement, my thoughts aren't on consignment. I'd rather be an island than let someone find me.
Track Name: Symptom
The phone call from the hospital is lingering; a tapping at the door, a haunting whispering. I'd rather not roll out of this bed today, it's far safer here under these sheets. How we grow older, falling out of love with the world that won't give in for one day. Like leaves, you're withering. Loss is the only thing the coming years have for me.
Track Name: Ellacoya
"It's not your fault," they said, "there's just a lot that's happening." I didn't want to talk it out, wanted to put myself in the ground. Being pulled five hundred ways and there's no one listening. I was growing up deaf to the sound of normality. A brick through the window, plates flying across the room, all while I'm wondering, "is this what I have to look forward to?" Cycle of violence, it's hard not to grow up a nihilist. Tormented by this leviathan. For a resolution, I'd give anything. I've been digging deep to bury these memories, bad dreams.
Track Name: Recede
I've stopped picking up the phone, it's tough to find a home when your first instinct's to run away, more distance with each passing day. I've been scrubbing all of my clothes clean of the things I hope to never see. Been giving away all of my things in hopes it'll pass this feeling. Give me some sense of belonging, I've grown weary of running and I just can't take it. This apathy is caustic and I've grown exhausted. The sun doesn't burn as bright these days, ones that blend together in a tiresome haze. Years of missed opportunities, sense of fulfillment, simply out of reach.