1. |
Novella Minor
04:18
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I bought you with this studious amalgamation
of whittled hands; a half-full and bland,
false body which is of no relation.
It's wrong and it's dry.
Rub raw and decline.
I brought you to this superfluous accommodation
with little plans; intangibly defeated
by an almost indefinite dilation.
I throb and you writhe.
Pull straws and get by.
Even in your spring there is no thaw.
The chimes upon my wings sing no song,
but there's an answer.
No song, but there's an answer.
There's no song.
You flail your arms.
So pale.
No stars.
A betrayal of charms;
this tale, this spun yarn.
Your run is my harm.
I am marred and torn.
No song. No Rhyme.
I claw and then die.
You would 1/2 me blind.
So stay strong.
Goodb...
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2. |
Means to an End
04:13
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So what's that you're reading?
I promise you, I don't know the name.
I choose between me and mine, so I guess we're even.
But could you please spare me from breathing?
And please just whisper something sweet to me my friend.
It feels so good to know what happened.
Please just offer some good use for me and my hands.
This is little more than a means to an end.
So I hear you're leaving.
I promise you this place will never be the same.
You choose between you and yours. You don't have to tell me,
but it sure would save me from breathing.
Please just whisper something sweet to me my friend.
It feels so good to know what happened.
Please just offer some good use for me and my hands.
This is little more than a means to an end.
And I know your mother must be so proud of you.
I never leave this room.
I hear you're leaving.
I promise you this place will never be the same.
We'll never be the same.
Please just whisper something sweet to me my friend.
It feels so good to know what happened.
Please just offer some good use for me and my hands.
This is little more than a means to an end.
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3. |
Swift Devices
05:02
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Leave me in silence.
My own swift devices come crashing down.
I've been around enough to know my heart's not welcome anymore.
And I believed the show; that all around here is God.
I've found that we got away with it this far.
We had love to give.
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4. |
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5. |
Take
04:12
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There's no one left to blame. I've got to get out of this.
Come meet my new friend. I think she'd like your autograph.
There comes a silence and a dignified response.
I take apart your intellect and use of reason,
but it's still wrong how it shoves and shakes leads me astray.
There's not much left to do here, so let's go get pissed.
I know a quiet place where no one ever goes.
There comes a silence that smells of cold disbelief.
I take my chances with your anger and total lack of self control.
It's so wrong how it kneads and breaks and leaves me behind.
"So give in." I tell myself.
"Give in." You tell yourself.
You tell yourself to....
... live. breathe. drink. shit. paint. fuck. defend someone weak, and serve only the God who is your soul.
There comes a silence and a sigh of relief.
You take a stab at my passion and new found will to be.
But it's still wrong how I pause and weave and take my time.
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6. |
Still
06:07
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You move slow, as if weighed down;
as if trained how by the falling of leaves.
You flow as if changed somehow;
as if you learned how from the sound and the scene.
It's all over me.
I'm covered by still waters and the sea.
Each movement counts.
You know, each time you're out your absence is so well received.
And it shows in the way you spill out
And the ground is covered from beneath.
It's all over me.
I'm covered by the breath of sighs left between.
It pours over me.
I'm covered by still waters and the sea.
So stay still in this dream.
We're still lovers, you and me.
Just lie still through this dream.
In this room we're set free.
When it's all over me,
and I'm uncovered by the breast of sighs and screams,
your still waters will flow from me.
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7. |
Pretend I'm Dead
10:21
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I, in sideways strides, I half embrace what's been coded and erased.
Enchanted, cryptic hallways made out of swollen casts in pairs.
Filled with ribbon and always paid by stolen masks who stare.
I let myself be purged of everything. I stopped to talk to the water's edge.
My love might have been sore with me, so I pretend I'm dead.
A pregnant pause, mistrusted thoughts, intrinsic laws made to defy.
A stagnant cause holds out its claws to the thinnest strands of you and I.
My love might have been sore with me so I pretend I'm dead.
You carry such grand knives and you know how to wield them.
You apologize; guilty, soft, and crazy. But I know where the faults lie.
Sore with me, so I pretend I'm dead.
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8. |
Safety in Patterns
03:51
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I dream right through you.
Bring home the damage to sift through.
As I tear and fold you,
I feel strange and fall through.
Rub your eyes. Scour the clause.
I must define what it is that I'm not.
Turpentine to soften the clots.
There is no pain but that of loss.
I'll see right through you.
The damage, so soft that it suits you.
I still wear the old you.
You taste strange, but you'll pull through.
Come inside with the rest of us.
Wait, I lied, it's just me.
But if you like we can breathe
harder tonight than I have all week.
Sever ties. Collect dust.
Stand outside and colour me rust.
In comes a sigh and a calling of bluffs.
Just stay the night, or at least till the rush.
Just keep in mind exactly what it was that I had left undone.
I dream right through you.
Bring home the damage to sift through.
As I tear and fold you,
I feel strange and it fools you.
Awake and in patterns.
There's safety in patterns.
I wait within patterns.
There's safety in patterns.
I dream right through you.
Bring home the damage to sift through.
As I tear and fold you,
I feel strange and then fall through.
I'll see right through you.
The damage, so sick that it suits you.
I still wear the old you,
You taste sour, but you'll do.
I dream right through you.
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9. |
Glass Mantle
06:02
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10. |
Watershed
09:29
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It seems we came for the same reason, much sought after tranquility.
Recognize the inflection and take from it what you will.
With your new Sunday's worth of impurity to satisfy the subtraction,
you bend to show your gratitude.
Through your stubborn veins the past has been ploughed,
has changed its name again, and grown quite fond of the sound.
No one will ever know...
Except for that last little setback, everything else tasted fine.
There's never been a better time to do away with old knives.
Still wreaking of havoc, there is no other way to define;
stuff the holes, plan a relapse. As for the rest, you decide.
So you came for the virtue to this, the last breath of dawn.
They've never deserved you so much as right now.
It's good that we glad we get along.
No one will ever know.
There's no place like home.
No one will ever know.
You'll get away with it.
I'll get away with this. You'll never know.
I'll get away with it with nothing to show.
I'll get away with this. There's no place like home.
I'll get away with it. I'll get away.....
With stolen pains the new past has vowed
to change shape and chase after you now.
Through stubborn veins the past has been ploughed,
has changed shaped and grown attached to the sound.
No one can ever know.
I would rather swallow my own fucking soul.
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11. |
Out of Your Way
04:27
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In the last 18 minutes of carrying on,
I sink into the rhythm of another smouldering dawn.
You whisper something and then fade away. While walking I pause and
sing to the river, which is my favourite song.
And you go out of your way to make it hard for me to love anything.
So I move out of your way.
I'm into persuasion, so stay thin and move on.
The candied invasion, a breaking of laws.
The plastic sedation of your own shelter and thought.
The new complications and their varying cause.
And you go out of your way to make it hard for me to love anything.
So I move out of your way.
All your weapons have been fashioned from the crudest implements,
but they get the damage done okay, don't they?
You go out of your way to make it hard for me to love anything,
so I move out of your way.
After all this time you've proved you're not for me.
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12. |
Steppes
15:20
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We stall and splinter into the sun.
So proud of our winter, the straining of tongues.
To have called upon the withered, both spoken and dumb,
would dissolve all we've entered of ourselves into the sun.
I bleed and remember, on my own,
the need to resemble, to care, and to have been known.
It's all been given back to the ground.
We surround and then hint at having been told you're not around.
I'm appalled by the reasons offered to calm.
Absolution feels nothing like falling through the ground.
I bleed and remember, on my own,
the need to resemble, to care and to have been known.
Oh, to have never met myself right here,
to have never run myself dry.
To have never, ever disappeared,
but to have stood back and watched myself die.
What's wrong with me?
Is this alright?
I still don't believe your steppes could be that wide.
What's wrong with me?
I'm not alright.
I don't believe that my steppes could be that wide.
So you've seen the claws,
and being more than 2, I have both sets of flaws.
Then there's my subtle, oh so subtle distaste for the law,
which leads me to myself, and to my homeless ways at all costs.
I stall and splinter into the sun.
So proud of my winter; the stain on my tongue.
I've always felt withered, so spoken and dumb.
I dissolve all I've entered of my soul into the sun
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