The girl, she passed away on boxing day. She tried
to sell her life away the night before she died.
The price she paid was way too high to be a bride.
The congregation never saw her wearing white.
Caught in the act, but I won't be caught dead.
Give it up, give it up trying to make it out alive.
Your whispers over the water.
You're gone, gone, gone like a ghost.
Never mother, only daughter.
She knows, she knows, she knows, she knows.
The girl was buried in a shallow grave, the town
could barely spare the space to put her in the ground.
The church was built on empty prayer and precious stones,
bought and sold by barons who stole everything they owned.
The town was washed away by floods in 64.
The river disregards the graves of rich and poor.
The water washed away their bodies to the moor,
and brought together all the bankers and the whores.
The UK upstarts' debut veers from sunny, psychedelic folk to bristling post-punk with reckless abandon without ever missing a beat. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 18, 2024
Winter McQuinn mixes soft rock and psychedelic folk for a sound reminiscent of classic pop purveyors like Cut Worms and the Lemon Twigs. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 16, 2024