Olden Days from Olden Days by The Fatal Flaw

Children gather around and let me tell you of the olden days. Nostalgia forms a surround, and all is filtered through a golden haze. But that haze burns away, and it’s cliché, but now it's never been clearer: that we don't recognize, through sober eyes, the face we see in the mirror. In the mirror, yeah. Nostalgia is a drug, a thieving little thug, that lies about what never can last. And we're drowning in its flood, bathing in the blood that's pouring from the corpse of the past. From the body of the olden days. Children let me expound on how the finish felt abrupt to me. The captain ran us aground, but nothing's all it's cracked up to be. Nostalgia never forgets our worst regrets, though we could never admit it. Because, oh, heaven forbid, the things we did outweigh the things that we didn't. That we didn't, yeah. Olden days (from the body of the ...) olden days (from the body of the ...) yeah, let olden days stay old. I said yeah (yeah), I said yeah (yeah), I said yeah, yeah, yeah. Nostalgia is a drug (... thieving little thug, lying in the grass, pouring from the past) and we’re drowning in the flood (... bathing in the blood, pouring from the past). From the body of the olden days. Olden days.

• Rock
• indie
• power-pop
• punk
• Boston