My name is Leslie Ann Levine. My mother birthed me down a dry ravine.
My mother birthed me far too soon. Born at nine and dead at noon.
Fifteen years gone now, I still wander this parapet and shake my rattle bone. Fifteen years gone now, I still cling to the petticoats of the girl who died with me.
On the roofs above the streets, the only love I've known is a chimney sweep lost and lodged inside a flue back in eighteen forty-two.
Fifteen years gone now, I still wail from these catacombs and curse my mother's name. Fifteen years gone now, still a wastrel mesallied has brought this fate on me.
My name is Leslie Ann Levine and I've got no one left to mourn for me.
My body lies inside its grave in a ditch not far away.
Fifteen years gone now, I still wander this parapet and shake my rattle bone. Fifteen years gone now, I still cling to the petticoats of the girl who died with me.
Off-kilter Portland indie rockers make an unexpected return with a tight three-track EP, their first new release in 12 years. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 18, 2024