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lyrics

A girl made of smoke ducking shots in the alley on Manhattan Avenue past the slate grey warehouse to practice elevation where there's nobody there to laugh at you. Whitney Farrell, age 24, pushes hard as she can against the tarmac floor. Fingers spread to gain elevation and then it begins as the ground beneath her spins. Drifting high above Greenpoint. Skins up into the sky. We're all waiting to see you fly.

All preparation for this day is now over as you let your friends in on your flight. No more pretending that those late-night visits to Pulaski Bridge were just the call of the night. A heart-shaped bruise from where she landed on a slag metal pile that shines like ice. After the plummet, gain elevation like Amelia shrouded in sight. All flight needs sacrifice. But every failure makes her practice it twice, and twice as high. We're all waiting to see you fly. We all believe in you. C'mon, now, try. Don't be afraid anymore. Brooklyn girls don't cry.

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from I'm Assuming You're All In Bands, released December 10, 2015

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Tris McCall Jersey City, New Jersey

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