Sunday Scaries

by Bloody Your Hands

supported by
Aaron Whited
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Aaron Whited always happy to support BYH. The last album was a great, catchy starting point but the writing on this album is just so superior. im enjoying every track and looking for forward to getting familiar with each track. love you guys and thanks for the quarantine by design music.
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1.
Insomnia 02:50
Every sound, a story, a distraction. Memory, anxiety, reaction. Tired but awake, I rest my eyes. I see tomorrow through bloodshot eyes, The longer I worry the worse the disguise. The darkness, a blanket I’m trapped underneath Insomnia take me, I call a defeat. Sinking into thought, I’m underwater. Chemicals don’t help, I think I’m drowning. Trapped by my own mind, I’m paralysed. I see tomorrow through bloodshot eyes, The longer I worry the worse the disguise. The darkness, a blanket I’m trapped underneath Insomnia take me, I call a defeat.
2.
Checked Out 03:08
I watch the leaves turn in my head, and another year descending to its end. Sitting in fluorescent rooms, and wondering why I don't like what I do. Don’t ask me to act my age when nothing pays a living wage. If you asked me, I won’t ever know what to say. My lessons as a child are corporate suicide. "Do what you love, it'll all work out." More money makes a dent but I'm not happy just paying rent when all I want is to check out. When will I figure this shit out (repeat) A sea of faces drone away. So happy with the same shit every day. They wonder what is wrong with me. I wonder too, this is the American Dream. Don’t ask me to act my age when no one liked those happy days anyway. If you asked me, I won’t ever know what to say. My lessons as a child are corporate suicide. "Do what you love, it'll all work out." More money makes a dent but I'm not happy just paying rent when all I want is to check out. When will I figure this shit out (repeat)
3.
Weird Winter 02:44
I lie in bed, struggling between the need for contact and isolation. And wonder why, I try so hard for something I can’t stand. Self-deprecating. And I talk to myself, ‘cause I don’t want no one else. I am not your hero, hero, I'll never be. I am not your hero, hero, I'll never be. I look into, the mirror and I hardly recognize, who I have become. I probably, should shower and shave once in a while, get out in the sun. But I'd rather wage a war with healthy life behind closed doors I am not your hero, hero, I'll never be. (repeat)
4.
Finally entered the room. Sorry for saying it too. It’s hard to tell you the truth. When this never happens to you. (repeat) It’s painful to open your arms. Easy to keep up your guard. It feels like we’re keeping score. It keeps us coming back for more. Wasted and dysfunctional. Wasted and dysfunctional. Waste my breath, like yelling at a wall. Walking on eggshells each night. Tiptoe around the next fight. Caught by the traps that we set. Emotional minefield to test. Wasted and dysfunctional. Wasted and dysfunctional. Waste my breath, like yelling at a wall. (repeat)
5.
As the rain beats down upon the empty city sidewalks I watch the dirt and garbage wash by like a tiny river of the used up. There are still cars on the road, each one encasing a single soul, destined for loneliness. And I wonder how loneliness can exist in a city this dense. Why do we work so hard on the things that make us miserable? It’s isolation by design. To be surrounded by water, but dying of thirst. Is it this anonymity that attracts us to New York? Sometimes it's nice to be anonymous, ignored, forgotten. If only human connection was opt-in; turned on with the flip of a switch and then off again when the words drift and the smiles lose their meanings. Has it all lost its meaning? Has it all lost its meaning?
6.
It’s overwhelming now. Our faces are lost in the crowd. I wonder how they live today without all the things we should say but we don’t say. You’re my hope. You’re the only reason I am here. You’re my hope. You’re the only reason I am here. I don’t know how to tell you it’s broken, filthy and abused. We are waiting for heroes. There are heroes. There are heroes in you. We’re fed fear and hopelessness by those who claim their innocence. The greedy few keep us content and feast as we neither consent or dissent. You’re my hope. You’re the only reason I am here. You’re my hope. You’re the only reason I am here. I don’t know how to tell you it’s broken, filthy and abused. We are waiting for heroes. There are heroes. There are heroes in you. Why don’t we stop before it's too late to belong? I won’t betray our future. Stop before it's too late to belong. I won’t betray our future. Stop before it's too late to belong. I can't stand up when you're falling down. It’s overwhelming now, how they keep our influence down. A system of puppets and lies where money steals power from the disenfranchised. You’re my hope. You’re the only reason I am here. You’re my hope. You’re the only reason I am here. I don’t know how to tell you it’s broken, filthy and abused. We are waiting for heroes. There are heroes. There are heroes. There are heroes. There are heroes. Claims of innocence and then another dollar spent by billionaires who profit from another dollar lent. We are told to vote and that our voices will be heard but how can we compete with them when all we have are words? How can we compete with them when all we have are words? Apathy will break us into parts they can consign; factions who will fight each other - this is by design. Leaders they use hate to make all choices sound absurd but how can we compete with them when all we have are words? How can we compete with them when all we have are words?
7.
All I see are people who are doing what they’re told. We haven’t found a meaning in the lives that we are sold. In a race to grow up, building walls to keep us safe. The rules we have to follow when we’re taught how to behave. It’s a forgery. They have sold me on a dream that I will never be. It’s a forgery. I can’t take the rhetoric from those with tired eyes. Their vision of perfection covers them like a disguise. I’m following a light that looks about to fizzle out. Knowing that the darkness covers me like a blackout. It’s a forgery. They have sold me on a dream that I will never be. It’s a forgery. My finger on the pulse of it. Watch the way they fall. So deep they can’t escape it, oh, at all. The hardest part of all of this is that I’m now the guide. I’ve been passed the torch and told to keep the flame alive. But I refuse to give in, to reject my child heart. Won’t trade success for happiness in a world so torn apart. It’s a forgery. They have sold me on a dream that I will never be. It’s a forgery. Many questions carry answers harder to believe. It’s a forgery. They have sold me on a dream that I will never be. It’s a forgery.
8.
Sunday, lasts forever. Head feels, like stormy weather. Playing, drunk forensics. Trying, not to get sick. Keys, phone, wallet: check. It’s drunk forensics. I’m dirty and alive. Not sure how I survived. Last night’s another blackout. I’m dirty and alive. I nearly lost my mind. Wondering when my luck runs out. Dizzy, with memories of fun. Nothing, is gonna get done. Happy, no cuts and bruises. No fights, or excuses. Keys, phone, wallet: check. It’s drunk forensics. I’m dirty and alive. Not sure how I survived. Last night’s another blackout. I’m dirty and alive. I nearly lost my mind. Wondering when my luck runs out. Dizzy, with memories of fun. Nothing, is gonna get done. Happy, no cuts and bruises. No fights, yeah, or excuses. Keys, phone, wallet: check. It’s drunk forensics. I’m dirty and alive. Not sure how I survived. Last night’s another blackout. I’m dirty and alive. I nearly lost my mind. Wondering when my luck will... I’m dirty and alive. Not sure how I survived. Last night’s another blackout. I’m dirty and alive. I nearly lost my mind. Wondering when my luck runs out.
9.
Hitchhiker 03:29
Under black sky A beautiful solitude The open miles The comfort of the unknown You are alone Full of fear and excitement Seek embassy Refuge for wearily trav’ler But I won’t let you say goodbye A journey tells a story A life so transitory But I won’t let you say goodbye Your father doubts What you hold deep inside of you But dreams don’t die You are your only guidance The road is dangerous But it is real and alive Location on no map A valley lost in memory But I won’t let you say goodbye The aimless wander calls you The road your siren song A kind heart always gets a ride Your highway stretches to the sky
10.
The Problem 03:05
Feeling guilty about what I want to do with my time, it isn’t mine anymore. I wanna play in a band but drink less at shows, and it shows, I barely make it to close. I don't recognize it no more. This isn't what I came here for. On the train or on the street, it’s all I see. At the bars we used to meet, so strange to me. On the train or on the street, it’s all I see. At the bars we used to meet, douchebaggery. I miss the days of naivete, full of punk rock and bicycles, drinking in parks. But Brooklyn’s become an echochamber of wealth, all landlords and hedge funds and circling sharks. Now it’s all crypto cash schemes, and everyone chasing that dream. On the train or on the street, it’s all I see. At the bars we used to meet, so strange to me. On the train or on the street, it’s all I see. At the bars we used to meet, douchebaggery. I ask myself, I ask myself, was my wave better than theirs? (repeat) My wave of gentrification. Open your pockets, nothing can stop it. I was the problem, now they are the problem. (repeat)

about

This is an album about anxiety, isolation, hope, loss, exhaustion, death and struggling with adulthood. It was written over a 2 year span that was both brutal and beautiful. It is the result of an honest, awkward and sometimes painful self exploration.

credits

released August 28, 2020

Sunday Scaries was written and performed by Jameson Edwards (vocals, guitars, keys), Mike Horaz (drums, vocals, percussion) and John Walsh (bass, vocals, keys). It was recorded, mixed and mastered by Skylar at Skylar Ross Recording. The album artwork was made by John Walsh, with the photograph by Mike Horaz.

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Bloody Your Hands! New York, New York

"Bloody Your Hands deliver loud, brash ’90s guitar-rock vibes with a healthy amount of 21st-century angst." -Alt Press

Described as "a rattling frenzy of irresistible power" and "a multi-faceted canvas of all that is likable about twenty-first century indie rock", NYC-based Bloody Your Hands combines catchy hooks, 90's alternative and driving punk - all with an explosive live show.
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