1. |
Immortal
03:34
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page by page, burn your legacy, collapse into semantics
won't bare your teeth, won't clench your fist, won't walk away from your own funeral
and you won't die a second time, you won't live another life
you won't say another word.
we live our lives outside ourselves as if we were secondary
given time you'll realize that everything is temporary
and all our lives we brace our seats in anticipation of the end
and in doing so, we forget to live.
you're not immortal, just spout your morals and tell yourself it's working
scream by shout, peel away your throat, only as loud as the sound that carries you
and you won't die a second time, you won't live another life
you won't say another word.
we live our lives outside ourselves as if we were secondary
given time you'll realize that everything is temporary
and all our lives we brace our seats in anticipation of the end
and in doing so, we forget to live.
life is only hindered by your death.
the strumming of my strings is the beating of my chest
and the straining of my voice is the pumping of my breath,
i'll sing away my heart til you can't hear my song,
til you only hear the wind that my melody is carried on
the afterlife is calling and it's reaching for my soul,
but maybe death will finally tell me what we've all been living for,
and if this song is all that's remembered of me when I'm dead
then these may as well be the only words I've ever said.
I mean I'm tired, I mean I'm done.
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2. |
Sculpture
04:45
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Does it make you suffer? Did you watch him writhe in pain?
It's much too frightening that we're so much alike.
My arms have blistered from the exposure to the sun.
Take off my skin and feel me underneath, I'm burning up.
I see my name pressed in obituaries. I am a tributary slowly eroding.
The water, it shows who I am underneath the skin I shed,
and deposits me into the sea.
So use your inside voices and keep your hands to yourself
and remember, never ever talk to strangers
Never let your guard down, because we know what they're after.
We know what you're after.
Every single piece of my skin strips away
in a body of water that orchestrates my fate,
when it's for the people and by the people, don't ever tell the people,
you just look them in the eye and say "I will continue living every day."
And as I swim upstream, the water, it shows who I am underneath
the skin I shed, and deposits me into the sea.
I made a sculpture carved into stone
Likened the sculpture unto my own
Feature by feature pressed into bone
I am the sculpture, and I i'm not alone.
No, I'm not alone.
The acrimony, the unclean and the uninformed will tell you what you know, what you don't
what you have and what you won't.
So tell me, what's the point of holding on when you know they're letting go on the other end?
That rope will slip right through your hands and fall into an endless pit,
but you're still not letting go. No you're still not letting go, you still cling fast to hope.
Does their promise of tomorrow still hold true to your own?
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3. |
Steady
04:27
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Your smile is worth more than the muscles that construct it,
or whatever emotion forced your lips to curve.
Your tears are more destructive than atom bombs and collapsing suns
but not more than the anger that compelled your eyes to burn.
So make sure you maintain a steady pattern of breathing,
and I'll try my hardest to comfort and console you.
A synergy I could not refuse, what melody could I hope to use?
One offering for a lovely muse, a song that aims to please.
Your eyes were flaring like an omen, my mind was yours just for a moment.
I could've sworn I was a hornet, and you my queen bee.
Don't underestimate the mistake of putting yourself in the way
of what a man can do for who he loves over what he needs.
So make sure you maintain a steady pattern of breathing,
and I'll try my hardest to comfort and console you.
Let not our mistakes define our future.
I will show you otherwise, because I know, yes I know what you're going through.
Baby look into my eyes, because I know, yes I know what the future holds for you.
I will show you otherwise, because I know, yes I know what you're going through.
Baby look into my eyes, because I know, I know what the future holds for you.
What the future holds for you.
What the future holds for you.
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4. |
Reserves
02:44
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My reserve is drowning out my nerves, and I've begun to wonder to what purpose does it serve?
Was it childhood conditioning, the fear that maybe God is listening?
An ever watchful eye watching over me relentlessly?
From the window of my living room, from the attic of the house where I grew up,
the rules only apply when noticed by my friends and family,
but they motivate me all the same. They've all but been abandoned by my ethic.
I can't help it. Nothing ever goes that easy.
Does the meaning lie in dormancy, or does the answer underlie the motives
that upheld my morals? Forward thinkers can't decide
on absolutes and rule of law. I was never comfortable before,
so what's the difference? Maybe I'm just overthinking everything.
Maybe it's too faulty an idea. Maybe I'm not suited for the task.
Maybe it's not me, it's just everybody else. Maybe it's just far too much to ask.
Maybe it's too faulty an idea. Maybe I'm not suited for the task.
Maybe it's not me, it's just everybody else. Maybe it's just far too much
far too much to ask!
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5. |
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What world will I create? What path can my footsteps entertain?
In the act of indecision, in the lack of a direction, my future stays unchanged
and my roads unchallenged. I fear that I haven't much to live for,
and haven't much time.
But how can I know unless I ever try?
We're forming a militia, rallying a warcry, "Idle to the bitter end"
In the face of apathy we found the answers to all the questions we never asked.
And in a way I'm ashamed, I always play it safe. Never taking chances and I never go astray,
always looking backwards at the moments I carelessly let slip past.
And every day is exactly the fucking same.
Is the world worth recreating? Does my passion have no bearing on the city I've come to love?
I can't make a statement with this voice I've grown to loathe.
And this familiar noise you're hearing is clearly the thumping sound of resolve,
and my heart beats much louder than my lungs ever let on.
Because it's the only thing that tells me I'm alive.
My family, my friends, God, please, show me a sign
that I am more than blood and breathing,
life means more than just completing,
more than death when we're done living.
Someone tell me I am real.
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6. |
The Weary will Sink
05:14
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Now there's a hole in the surface of my empathy.
I tried to fill it with a logic that spoke nonsense to me.
I had a vision, had a purpose, felt like I had meaning.
Girl, it's not you I miss, I just miss the feeling. Miss the feeling of your body.
Logic eroded 'neath the downpour of the inner-city.
We didn't see it coming, the hurricane started so lightly,
but it won't wash away the hurt or satisfy the yearning.
Our hands are clean so why is it I feel so dirty?
Where has all the rain been falling?
...
I found an anchor in a phone call from a friend.
I am no sort of liar, for the time, though, we'll pretend
to care about each other like we did when we were close.
I hear it helps with coping, keeps my spirits as high as my hopes.
Am I alone in this mausoleum we both call our home?
I tried to speak to God, but God unplugged his telephone,
so if you hear my voice while rummaging through AM stations,
please be patient, please tread lightly, listen to me as I strum my pain away.
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