TRITA

by TRITA

supported by
ethan_teel
ethan_teel thumbnail
ratjaguar
ratjaguar thumbnail
Nate O.
Nate O. thumbnail
Prog J
Prog J thumbnail
/

  • Streaming + Download

    Includes high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more. Paying supporters also get unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app.

      name your price

     

1.
07:06
lyrics
buy track
2.
04:23
lyrics
buy track
3.
05:18
lyrics
buy track

credits

released July 27, 2016

tags

tags: alternative progressive rock rock post-hardcore progressive Minneapolis

license

all rights reserved

about

TRITA image

TRITA Minneapolis, Minnesota

We try to make music sounds. We try to write songs. We try to be a band. TRITA.

Prog rock with some elements of post-hardcore.

Take care of yourself, and take care of somebody else.

contact / help

Contact TRITA

Streaming and
Download help

Track Name: Euphorbia
The first known act of existence is infinity that became aware.
It begins and it ends in the unknown, light does not move, light is just there.
Every entity possesses completeness, as existence expresses itself.
The freedom of will and awareness, the choice to reject or accept.
The purest of light wilts to dimness, a purpose perverting feedback loop.
Short-sighted to the light and creation, with a diet of low hanging fruit.



Doors of perception dead-bolted shut. Pineal stones from connections lost.
Depolarized and detuned. The light dims because it can't get through the haze of retrograde.
Celestial click-bait to a blank page and a clean slate. A slow fade to a vague mediocre shade.
Equivalent exchange subject to change.


In and out of congruence, indifferent resonance.


Distortions inherent, limitations of the instrument.


Doors of perception dead-bolted shut. Pineal stones from connections lost.
Depolarized and detuned. The light dims because it can't get through the haze of retrograde.
Celestial click-bait to a blank page and a clean slate. A slow fade to a vague mediocre shade.
Equivalent exchange subject to change.


This is what I deserve.


Now our path is forward, and it's forged, not followed.


Why am I feeling this? Why am I like this? Why would I choose this? Why am I like this?



To know, to accept, forgive and balance. All are needed to become open. The recognizing and removing, any and all incongruences.


Now none is lost, all is well, now go forth, and rejoice because I'll see you at the octave.
Track Name: Tin Ear
Well it comes and goes again
Now I have a hiss of nothingness
A reminder so meaningful and so meaningless.
What can I say? What will you like?
How can I get you to feel something from this?


A tin ear, can still hear. This tin ear.


It dissolves the resolve. Singing songs of someone else.
tinnitus lullaby, I have done this to myself.


I have made peace with what is in pieces.


Peace and perfection. Conceived inception. Misled intention, misguided perception.


A tin ear, can still hear. This tin ear.


Silence is now a concept. Attention span of a fart.
I've taken it for granted, right down to an art.


I have made peace with what is in pieces.


Peace and perfection. Conceived inception. Misled intention, misguided perception.


The way of the world feels like the weight of the world.


No.


This tin ear can still hear.


I have made peace with what is in pieces. (A tin ear can still hear, this tin ear, can still hear)
Track Name: Rocks and Stones
Sediment. Sentiment. Detriment. Rocks and stones.

Keep moving forward, not to sink in to
the waiting maws of sharks, riptides and leeches.
Build up, push through new waters, rocks and sands.
I'm still learning how to think and how to swim,
in conversations and not in speeches.

Sediment. Sentiment. Detriment. Rocks and stones.

High tide misidentified,
in eagle eyed hindsight.
The silt, the gravel and the pebbles,
from a bedrock once watertight.

Sediment. Sentiment. Detriment. Rocks and stones.

Build up, push through, new waters, rocks and sands.
Slow now, some where, to see our ears, mouths and hands.
Head up, flood light.
Flinch, recoil, eliminate.
Roll eyes, breathe deep.
What we want, we'll illuminate.
Dig in, don't think.
Comfortable convenience.
Look now, old wounds.
Fresh blood, same grievance.
Sea foam, somewhere,
an aqua and ruby reminder.
We're so sentimental of the stones that pull us under.

(Keep moving forward, not to sink in to
the waiting maws of sharks, riptides and leeches.
Build up, push through new waters rocks and sands.)

I'm still learning how to think and how to swim,
in conversations and not in speeches.