to be remembered

by 3 Hour Power Shower

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    see you space cowboy...

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released August 13, 2016

Recorded at Quiet Country Audio. Mixing, Producing, and Mastering all done by Paul Besch at QCA. Also, Paul Besch is the DUDE, and if you're looking for sick sounds in Buffalo, hit him up. He has been an awesome friend and an even MORE awesome engineer.
All music written by 3 Hour Power Shower, with the exception of why we aren't going to heaven pt. 2, which is written by Jimmy Cinski and Jaden Zhang
Lyrics written by Jimmy Cinski
Photo credits to Syd Strano and Morgan Orlando, my beautiful wife and child, respectively



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3 Hour Power Shower Buffalo, New York

Super famous.
Tyler Will on drums, Jon Andrews on bass, Jimmy Cinski singing and rhythm guitar, and Jaden Zhang on lead guitar.

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Track Name: SHFF
I cut my bones on other's skin, push back emotion; caving in. Wreck me, myself, get out of place. Forego words to save some space. Panic like no one else is here, I'm in the deep end of my head. I should care more, careless, but there's something blocking me from empathy.
I line these walls like they're everything I've wanted, and I forsake and enthrall myself to be honest. No cage can hold the sun in.
Case closed, get shut, like there's nothing more to do. I hate my arms, my sound, my voice, and I am sick of everything reducing me to failure. I can't control my moving parts, I would work better in the ground.
I am worth more than this.
Track Name: Addendum
So heavy a burden, so light a load. You carried a lantern, went out for a smoke. You carried your cancer and died there alone. I'm just one of so many to carry you home.
Did I care enough? Disappointed, left out. An oxymoron to keep your interest. I've never been so invested in this.
Your trembling hands put up your dark hair, as he whispers sweet things straight into the air. You walked by his office, he just stopped and stared. If you were the last one how do you think he fared?
Your pain is my pain; splattering paint, colorful lines. Undressing your disdain, you know I care, you can take mine.
Yeah, maybe you're right. You can't be alright.
Track Name: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
I am so cuffed, coughing and cursing from all of the cuts. You're bent at the knees, too tired to stand up. Too tired to continue to make love. EVERYTHING ENDS!, your unjust facade, your blanketing choruses that fill up my bathroom when water falls wet from your eyes.
I hope this untimely marriage will end up in a divorce.
There's so much to wait on, I can't help but pick up from right where we left off, breaking the bonds that we once loved. A marriage to life that fucks us both up. And I'm not frustrated - I'm just picking out all the parts that I don't need. It's none of our faults that I stuck this out for weeks, and ended up with a wound that won't stop bleeding.
I hope this untimely marriage will end up in a divorce. And I hope that all of the angels won't carry me back to the shore. I'll spit and lash out in anger at everyone I could show love towards. If all of this ended, I would not be back for more.
Track Name: Disappointing/Disappointed
You can't pick me up, 'cause I'll make you drown. And I'll get arrested, but I won't expect it, 'cause I'm not getting better, so I might as well get myself tested.
I'm fucking through this emptiness, take a look at my mess. Despair is my best friend. I'm done wanting you like this.
Things are just how they're supposed to be; there's something wrong with me. Sometimes your best is simply not good enough.
You can't pick me up 'cause I'll make you drown. You can bet that I'm getting good at making hate. I'll force the face, my saving grace.
I'm fucking through this emptiness, take a look at my mess. Despair is my best friend. I've come face to face, and I can't withstand that I can't make it through by holding my heart in my hand.
Track Name: A Slow Drive to Vermont
Father seek me in the morning. My arms are sore from all the turning. I'm leaving black spots in the kitchen. A restless mind becomes the victim. A stomachache is now your always. Your legs outstretched become the hallways. I walk your thighs up to your neck. I talk your name, you know the rest. My mind is blank, save for this nest. And I'm not freezing in my tracks, your body haunts me here and back, and now my name is not the one I crave.
Now I'm grieving over everything. I breathe in your relief, exchange it for some belief in the legs I trace. My body gets erased in the mess of our name. You know the rest. My mind is blank, save for this nest. And I'm not freezing in my tracks, your body haunts me here and back, and now my name is not the one I crave.
And we're on the cusp of our age. I make endless words with my rage. You'll kill me and make me your name. I'll kill you and make you my name.
Track Name: Preening
A glass in hand is two birds with one stone. You killed the litter before they could prosper. Resuscitation and the search for an answer; I said yes without even the offer. Panic attacks, and a trip to the coast. I grabbed my jacket, and punched into the mirror. I choked on that breath, settled down with a fever. And I won't get away with that one either.
You bet I don't wanna talk about it.
I saw you face down, back arched, all covered in marks; an empty vessel with only an anchor. They took it out of you, and put it in me, so broken a creature, such broken up features.
Each time that I find something meaningful I burn it.
How do we keep a body afloat when it's run out of air? How do you sell yourself to others who aren't gonna care? How do I stay consistent and constant in my dead stare? Why do I keep myself alive, when I just don't fucking care?
I'm gonna die like this.
Track Name: why we aren't going to heaven pt. 2
I'm still troubling them, a face with hands, they're creeping down into my pants. I can't make peace with the brightest light, so I let it straight into my life. I don't expect to make it past vacation.
My expensive taste has run itself to empty me straight into hell. I can't keep searching in the dark like a marksman that can't make their mark. It's exactly like my father said, the bigger picture's far from my head. And even with a massive scene, it goes unseen to me.
A sick old saint, the marble archway. Signs of ungodly decay. Everyone's a little scared, waiting for their judgement day. If we're not going to heaven, why are there these wings on our backs? For all except your halo, we're fading into black.
We've troubled God, asked it for help; told us we'd have to help ourselves. This heaviness could fill a hole, but what's the prickly price we owe? In choosing not to see past love, there's no place for us up above. I don't expect to make it past vacation with all these empty words past expiration. I'll never have some sense of some salvation.