1. |
Enter On Ash
04:10
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Love transcends my vision of how to end, like a blinding hindrance to agony on the mend. Severed futures of rain and gold refract the light of the love I withhold. Fading chances erupt in me, foreseen regrets and memories unfolding. And though I see and know it believes in me, there's a strange attraction to circular motion within severed futures of rain and gold (refract the light of the love I withhold). Jaded secrets are safe with me, egos tripping a former glory. Wear it thin, wear it out. A semi-perfect crown, rusting in self-doubt. Severed futures of rain and gold refract the light of the love I withhold. Radiant ashes of things to come, in fevered flashes of flesh and neon.
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2. |
Split Blood
04:38
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Falling far and fast from places of comfort, to analyze would be treason. I discern a side, and shot with confusion, I'm longing for a day without reason. Free, without a doubt, from the days where nothing was everything. Free and out of the time where nothing was all, but torn.
Passages appear, I follow determined, only to end up where I started. And living far and wide in all but the here and now, somehow I'm free and yet weary of looking back to the days when I could be anyone. Fear and calm at the thought that I could be all, and was. Damages are done. There's something to search for, but can I even see what I'm hearing? Free, without a doubt, from the days where nothing was everything. Free and out of the time where nothing was all.
I'm torn.
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3. |
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Draw me a line, I can't pretend the shape anymore. Guess me a sign, I can't define escape anymore. I can't define the light. Bliss and despair, your blades a cut above the rest. Slowly choices retreat, extremities of emptiness. I never knew the night could shine so bright, leaving the house without you. But you're safe, you're safe, you're safe, you're safe, your chance has come and gone. Given the choice, are mistakes not what we're hoping for?
Discarnate voice of counseling, the predator of our addictive flaws.
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4. |
Left
05:23
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Raise the knife. Its form and fancy meet to reveal a name. It's never spelt the same. In shifting shades of red it eludes my grip. I give in and reverse the dripping, the overflow and flood where the senses blur. A cycle, to return to like a home you barely notice. Split the night. Separate the hours from this broken space. Replace the teasing agony, the shaking shapes of trial with the soft serene. I've never felt so keen to state the obvious. Beyond my line of sight, where names refuse to care, there's a light I barely notice, it beckons like a home, and rays that even-out the weight in every thing, every answer validated and every fault atoned for.
So bury the second knife, the secondary name, heal the scars it left you trying to reclaim.
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5. |
Yr Arms Can Stretch
03:36
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Pushing drugs on kids, fuck up, then take the clothing to dry-clean. Clean, dry, dye red, ready for bed. Watchmen and sentinels, save no outlook for me: my mass is meaningless, my conventions flawed, don't play your wars for me. Faced with the obvious, your precious concepts burn and writhe, I guess you'd take a picture. You say that all you've got is all you need, I wish I knew the feeling. I know it's there, I can't elaborate. I turn to taller buildings and shadows, in colored dreams of balconies with no railings for photos, parachutes with holes in to breath through while bailing out. When you're drawn to go down in style, you see how real fake feelings lead to this. Shoot with confidence at foe far or near. No need to justify the means or motives, far-fetched. You know your arms can stretch.
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6. |
I See Skull
05:09
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A clear and perfect image fills the screen. I know I'm everywhere I've ever been. As sound and silence argue endlessly, there's nothing I've touched that's not part of me and tracing me in lines of erasure. Never a thought to spare. Through waves of ordinary, surfaces something elusive to the sensitive. I try to reconcile the flesh and dream, endlessly questioning which to redeem for the luxury of the void.
Because it's a bitter tie: to succeed is to try.
And in a mirror of light, I see skull.
Never a thought to spare.
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7. |
Felt
02:15
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8. |
Lines
03:43
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So when you read my note, see the words as formers of divide. There's another time, another worth behind them, part of me that's lost on everyone. And never do the ones I choose to say fill the void I hope to convey. It seemed to me expectancy was the easy phase, but here the lines that sever me are razor sharp. There's a former me, there's a future you (will the weakest syllables survive?), which the words deny in a veiled deprival. And even with the fading letters gone, the ghosts of what they stood for live on and systemize my days, for want of a better word.
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9. |
Shapes
02:59
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So cast away these ailing shapes of doubt that keep me from completion. Their aching edges dull the light in me. To end, an infinite beginning. Concessionary/conclusionary. And turn towards these wasted shapes of love whose force will never falter. I close my eyes before the lights go out, and I take the darkness with me. Hear me out, you're not left out. Though I'm safe within the sound I'm trying my best to embrace the rest and confront the face you've seen in me. Though I know the shapes of tears will always reign in their search for affection. To trace their lines is a luxury… Can you turn your back on so much beauty?
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10. |
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Infinite emptiness, the depth of our kindness, where our touches hurt and heal and heal and hurt. Depression lies… It fakes its own demise, then returns to greet you with a casual smile. Cease beyond repeat. Kiss beyond repair. Quantify and stretch the feeling that you're never really there. Cars run nervous, low, as callous clouds converge over maps and lines and plans that can't be drawn. So sleep is what we're best at, as the outside world explodes and reduces us to shards, more than we'll ever know.
Shine beyond the day. Hope beyond despair.
Shake me to dispel the feeling that I'm never really there.
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11. |
Softer
01:54
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12. |
Emerald
03:27
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The simplest thing I mean to say, I can't express.
It seemed so clear, but now it's here, it's withering out:
"The simplest thing I mean to say, I can't express."
This is what bleeding is for.
I can't believe that after all, it came to rest. I tried so hard, I really did. I gave it my best.
And with what's left, I guess we'll try to understand how so much love can to turn to blood,
like sugar to sand.
"MAY OUR LOVE REMAIN STRONG."
(May our love remain strong.)
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