The Weeks lyrics
Artist · 85 050 listeners per month
Artist's albums
Inside the Covers
2021 · album
Inside Voices (Live)
2020 · album
Twisted Rivers
2020 · album
Slips
2020 · single
Bobbie
2020 · single
This Dance
2020 · single
Alive Right Now
2019 · single
Two Moons
2019 · album
Paper Mâché Houses
2019 · single
Comin' Down
2019 · single
Inside The Pines (Live)
2018 · album
Grind Yr Teeth
2017 · single
Easy
2017 · album
Hands on the Radio
2017 · single
Ourvinyl Sessions
2017 · EP
Bottle Rocket
2017 · single
Talk Like That
2017 · single
Gold Don't Rust
2016 · single
Buttons
2014 · EP
The Weeks | OurVinyl Sessions
2013 · single
Dear Bo Jackson
2013 · album
Gutter Gaunt Gangster
2012 · album
Gutter Gaunt Gangster (Expanded Edition)
2012 · album
Rumspringa
2009 · EP
Comeback Cadillac (Expanded Edition)
2008 · album
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Biography
The sound of wind through the pines, bare feet brushing through leaves, snapping sticks like the spines of the weak. When we started we were small and strong at heart, five southern souls damned to speak the truth. But with this responsibility comes pain and loss. And as the years passed our numbers grew smaller, and there were four. This did not stop these brave soldiers of thought, keepers of truth. They were older now and their soft footsteps through the forest had grown louder and stronger. Like the dust filled hoof beats of a thousand wild horses, they layer sound like musket fire, their melodies bend and twist like train-tracks. A music shaped from the calloused hands and wrinkled faces of their fathers. They have walked through the fire wide-eyed and crazy, and came out enlightened. You cannot stop these men, your armies can’t cease their hands, dampen this thunder, or silence their tongues. We have trudged through the muddy swamps to freedom. Our shoes are tattered and torn, but our feet are dry. As for our places in history, we will run naked through your streets before we sit decorated in your halls.