Get all 6 Portage releases available on Bandcamp and save 35%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Good Grief Instrumental, Good Grief With Good Friends, Good Grief EP, Songs You Can't Dance To EP, Pond Music EP, and Imaginary Friends EP.
1. |
Malice & Honey
02:56
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This is the shape of sadness to come,
We are thrifted, frayed, and then some.
Open a wrist, unbutton these lips, clearing a throat and conscience both.
I am just like everyone else, here to exercise old ghosts.
Dead set on making it through tonight more alive than when we came in.
A head full of smoke and these pharmaceuticals.
It's the night of the living dead twenty-two year olds.
Leave all your neuroses at the curb.
Then delude what's left of yourself with cheap lager and herb.
Thinking of myself a lot, not a lot of myself.
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2. |
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Slurred speech mumbles of "I miss you."
Unsteady feet walk out to the street from this stool.
I'll drive home with one eye closed, I'm no good at being alone.
You've got some nerve making an honest man of me.
Stay the grain of these hardwood floors holds too much skin to leave.
Staring at pictures of you on my phone 'til it shuts off.
Half hoping you'll call half hoping you've moved on and it'll just shut off.
Tasteless coping and the privilege of self loathing while I decide where this blame should be put.
Sure I am the one who left, but did you really not know where to look?
One day I'll stop caring what your nights are spent doing while I slept alone.
I hope by now you're removing your make up.
After some pink moscato you'll be sleeping sound.
When the fear of missing out is all that keeps my feet from dangling one bar stools height above the ground.
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3. |
Sunday Assembly
03:44
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In lieu of coasters we found bibles to set on the wood.
And laughed as your mug left a ring on the good book.
Now I'm collecting every fingerprint you left in our apartment.
Fashioned in blue I will contuse your grip into a necklace.
When coffee keeps us moving, only alcohol can bring our rest.
This is the modern circadian rhythm, this is getting in and out of bed.
We congregate in diners, all hung over youth.
Treating nausea with the grease of mediocre food.
That vacant gleam in your stare and my curly bed hair.
We feel the pulse there: lacerations persevered.
When coffee keeps us moving, only alcohol can bring our rest.
This is the modern circadian rhythm, this is getting in and out of bed.
Cut me to ribbons.
I'll be the bow in your hair.
These totems worse for our wear.
Counting sips like beads on a rosary, behind the wheel of this damn sedan.
Under the influence and guilty of crashing your plans.
But what a run we had, meaning well.
Killing god just to try and find ourselves.
I wonder what it'd take...
To get a drink in heaven these days?
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4. |
The Places You'll Go
00:40
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I saw myself better through your eyes, through your glasses.
I felt much better on your skin, on your mattress.
I am selfish and posessive, when I'm manic I'm incessant.
But you still placed my toothbrush in the quiver of ceramic.
Tongue and cheek had enabled our dissolute behavior.
And fostered the more damning patterns.
With an Indian summer we could have made it through autumn.
I'm only sorry I didn't act when it mattered.
Someday I'll hang my blue collar from the skyline that cradles you there.
This is flamingo lawn decor to the score of a screen door, against the car horn symphony of apartment floors.
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5. |
Drunk, Probably.
04:35
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New meds down with bold ideas.
Bleeding from my nose.
The air is dry and cold.
The style and grace of that whiskey jacket.
In vintage taste, a well tailored habit.
I will wane and I will forfeit.
A few bottles with our pain, two pillows and a blanket.
New meds down with bold ideas.
Bleeding from my nose.
The air is dry and cold.
Rooms spin, impulsed with bold ideas.
Who is driving you home?
A taste more of beer for the road.
Old enough to make the call but too young for the right one.
Black Label on her lips, into the car she's stumbling.
All's well that never ends.
Dear before liquor.
All's best that never began.
I've never been sicker.
I could stay sick like this forever
We are young and drunk.
We'd be invincible if just cognitive enough.
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6. |
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On your living room couch I found ease.
When the lives in my bed shed ghosts in their leave.
Through this friction of bare skin we set fire to the sleeves that bore hearts.
Sleeping just fine, with you, glowing in the dark.
I've got a toothache now.
From chewing on Zoloft and things I said about you.
They were so sweet...
But so damn hard to eat.
Slowly filling these old bottles up.
With all your burnt down cigarette butts.
Given a chance I'd still breath the tar from your lungs.
But this indulgence is enough.
Empty drawers and cabinets.
We're prone to nostalgia and accidents.
Topography and time breached the kids who carried on.
Topography and time breached the kids who carried on.
Empty drawers and cabinets.
We're prone to nostalgia and accidents.
I know that this is nothing new.
But it's something I'm still working through.
I've got a toothache now.
From chewing Zoloft and things I said about you.
They were so sweet...
But so damn hard to eat.
You'll probably talk some shit,
and curse me for being a hypocrite.
Like I don't know I'm a hypocrite.
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7. |
The Dead Poet's Sobriety
04:33
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I'm sure you're hungry, Honey - though you never want to go.
You're sure I'm up to something, I admit it's justly skeptical.
But there's no point in eating alone.
But there's no point in eating alone.
My apartment had a bottle 'til your lipstick stained a glass.
In this bed I never make, two bodies lay awake.
Now there's no point in drinking alone.
When no one is sleeping alone.
And it goes without saying, I only bite the bitter end.
So I let you out of your own clothes.
Too hoarse to admit the score, we are sobered.
How it feels to know and be known.
I am winning you over.
Worked this out a few times in my head.
Say something out loud you have never told anyone else.
I can bare anything.
Rest them on my shoulder, all your burdens.
Guts are in confidence still when timidly spilt.
I'll get up so late in hopes she's still here.
I'll get up so late in hopes you're still here.
...I've worked this out a few times in my head.
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8. |
Sign Language
03:18
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Staring out the window from your bed with my shoes on.
Half tempted to leave before you wake up.
Fake sleep while contemplating all that's been said I let one foot down,
but "you can stay if you want" still ringing in my head.
A mason jar of bottle caps above the kitchen sink says three a day for the last twelve weeks.
Watch close as my body confesses what I'm too proud to admit.
Summer sweat though the warmest days yet can't seem to touch your side of the bed.
Early onset midlife crises, this isn't who I thought I'd be at twenty three.
I deleted all the pictures of you from my phone and I let it shut off, I moved on.
(Cut me to ribbons. I'll be the bow in your hair)
Now sweaty hands and cold feet made an honest man of me.
(Is this what it feels like? Getting old?)
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Portage Cleveland, Ohio
Portage is an Emo/Math Rock band from Cleveland, Ohio.
We are:
Isaac - Bass
Eric - Drums
Justin - Guitar
Zach - Guitar
Portage recommends:
EricArthurBlair
by EricArthurBlair
I know I really like something when it makes me say "damn, I wish I wrote that." EricArthurBlair does that to me with this album's lyrics, vocal melodies, and musicianship.
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Your Best Friend
by Your Best Friend
The now defunct (sad face) Your Best Friend is still and will probably always be my favorite and the most influential band I've listened to.
go to album
Did you know that our drummer, Eric, is by far the most talented member of the band? Don't believe me? Check out Posture and you will have no doubts that I am right.
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