Chasing the Sky is around two weeks from releasing the (yet untitled) second track from our first full-length album. I’m more excited about this song than any other in the history of this band for a few reasons. First, musically it’s the most complex we’ve ever written — it introduces a lot of the technical talent we gained by adding Trevor Atkinson on lead guitar (he’s a blues/jazz guitarist by nature, but man can this kid kick out some great rock parts) and Cassidy Warner on keyboard (especially in this song, you’ll be impressed by her Muse-esque classically styled piano solo).

The second reason is content. I think this song is the most heartfelt, and the most passionate of anything we’ve written. It’s also by far the most pissed off. I wrote the lyrics about sexual assault.

I’ve met girls — an unfortunate amount — who are survivors. They all respond differently, but there’s one common thread I’ve seen among these girls: none of them are ever the same.

I’ve met men who don’t understand. “It’s just sex,” they say. “Can it really be that bad?” I’ve also met men who would like to rip the esophagus out of anyone who dared touch friend or loved one in such a way.

I count myself among the latter.

This song was meant to portray two sets of feelings (and musically, it does this by moving from a darkly atmospheric sound, to full on rock-and-roll aggression). The first emotion is tragedy. From the start of the song, until the second time “This is not how love should feel” is repeated, I tried to create a sense of helplessness and desperation. Not only tragedy in the moment of the crime, but also tragedy in the years to come because of the psychological turmoil.

From the first chorus (“So pray …”) onward, I tried to capture my reaction. I think it’s the way any red blooded American male would react to a woman’s abuse. Anger. Rage. A desire for retaliation.

So anyway. That’s that. Here are the lyrics:

Untitled

Down here, she’s a lamb in a den of lions.

All the heavens are called to silence.

As the blood soaks through the bed sheets.

A voice in her head is screaming, “this is not how love should feel.”

She sleeps now, to a lullabye of sirens

and dreams about the day that she’ll wed.

The memories like a serpent

Now coil on her bed.

This is not how love should feel.

So pray the darkness keeps you safe.

Because at the break of day,