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lyrics

Twenty-four hours is all we have left.
No bids to make our peace,
Only bids to regret.
Twenty-four hours is all we have left.
Twenty-four hours.
Twenty-four hours.

Time is running out for bittersweet disease,
Huddled with umbrellas as if we were Siamese.
Time is running out for our respites and goodbyes.
The only marks left to be made are those that we incise.

Twenty-four hours, it’s all subjective.
Every second past,
Another second dead.
Twenty-four hours, I’d kill to live the lie.
Twenty-four hours.
Twenty-four hours.

Time is running out for bittersweet disease,
Huddled with umbrellas as if we were Siamese.
Time is running out for art walks and kitchen lights.
The only marks left to be made are those that we incise.

credits

from My Nothing, released June 12, 2010
All lyrics by J. Straube
All music by Post Adolescence
Produced by Post Adolescence and Mark Clem
Recorded at London Bridge Studios and Soul Kitchen Studios
Mixed at Soul Kitchen Studios by Mark Clem
Mastered by Barry Corliss at Master Works, Seattle WA
Album artwork and design by Ryan Dunleavy
Photo by Chris Woods
Text edited by Amber Bird

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Post Adolescence Seattle, Washington

Drawing from 80s post-punk sounds of the Buzzcocks, Placebo, and Manic Street Preachers, Post Adolescence and their album “My Nothing” demonstrate a British Post-Punk-Glam sound that belongs only to them. These pure pop sounds find the “young and angry” pleasure center for which all of us lust. In the truest sense, they are at the leading edge of the next wave of the post-modern rock movement. ... more

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