1. |
That Still Night
01:48
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That still night
The haze waning in the waking of the moon
Your red dress broke
Like waves on your legs too soon
And I don’t know.
What looks more inviting
The glassed water or your scarlet lips
Or the flesh between us torn asunder
I’ve got a feeling that your kiss will be my crypt
The air between us
Was reciprocal to say the least
Molecules interspersed with connective energy
Each spark, the remnant of a memory
The way I spoke in something less than words
And somehow,
You still heard
You still heard.
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2. |
Storms
03:53
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And I burned that bridge
Like a cigarette
The plume of consequences drift
Only to settle on my shores
Where savage storms are cast by lovers
And are met with open arms
For what good is a shore without a storm
To bring new driftwood and resolve
Invited to dance with the rain
We make our homes near the tide line
The ebb and flow, such a dangerous game
Alludes to a time when the suffering mind
Will be part of love, just as the body is of war
Both are unneeded functions our egos choose to explore
They say there’s nothing coming
But they don’t know that’s a fact
The horizon tells a different story
And I will tell it back
I hear it groan, and I see it’s face
Sullen with despair
Or maybe anger, I don’t really know
I can’t say I was there
Then the sails they came like white clouds
With hope of a new rain
But they spit ash and fire
A storm of pain
And in the waves
An overwhelming silence
Of things left unsaid
Floating in the violence
And time an enemy
That’s with you ‘till the end
When everything is said and done
It ends up as a friend
It ends up as a friend
A storm is fucking coming
I can feel it in my bones
A storm is coming
The likes of which we’ve never known
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3. |
Know That I Am Small
03:54
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I’ll sit outside,
And know that I am small
But loving all the little things
Is bigger than us all
It begins as, an abstraction
Starts it life as an idea
It becomes an overarching hum
Everything can feel
Medicine to the terra infirma,
Manifests and spreads like a mistake
Your tired, weary purpose
Is ripe to pick and there to to take
And I’ll take responsibility for my sins
If thats not enough to love, then I don’t know what is
Coming down the pipeline
Are cobwebs and dust
The once loose valves now sealed
With age and rust
For time is a funny cure to this misery
The spoils of oil and gold are to be dead history
Winding down the hills
Like a snake around a neck
Choking the promise from the land
Younger than death
The land will be a lake
And the lake will become land
Whether by the grace of time
Or by our own hand
I’ll sit outside,
And know that I am small
But loving all the little things
Is bigger than us all
I’ll sit outside,
And know that I am small
Like a gunshot at night
I’ll make my mark
Shouting hard at something unknown
Then dying slow
My lingering memory
Keeping you on edge
My meaning carrying a gravity
Perhaps it was revenge
Or an accident, a simple feud
Or maybe I’m as privy to the reasons
To the reasons as you
Was it unprecedented?
are my feelings a bullet?
I’ll sit outside,
And know that I am small
But loving all the little things
Is bigger than us all
I’ll sit outside,
And know that I am small
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4. |
Eyes Pry
04:30
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These rooms taste of regret
A fate ill received
chosen nonetheless
Eyes pry until they bleed
nights like this get no attention
from my fading memory
more optionless direction
more vile misanthropy
a pall on life is sewn with the threads of my undying needs
to find solace in the abscess of our love
The glass a lens, the rain it flickers like static
The voices drone and the wall stares back at me
Its face marred by the streaks of dirt
That bleed like ink across the pages of time
I have a certain apathy to all the abuse
Like a method to cope with that rock
that rolls down the hill every time I push it up
And I pick at the scabs trying to draw some blood
A flood of motivation to pick me up
And I know nothing is worth dying for
I’m finding purpose and pleasure in suffering
Because without it there’s something missing
Every Corner I turn, I find a catch twenty-two
Another ghost in the flesh
One of the unlucky few
But then again, we’ve all got our faults
Every limb on every tree, the perfect place
To hang my demons: Dead, naked, and defaced
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