1. |
Moody
03:53
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Moody
Where the fuck am I?
And who is this lying beside me?
An awkward good morning.
She’s rushing me out the door.
Why am I living this way?
What is the point of this competition?
It isn’t hurting who I want it to.
It seemed so great, I guess the grass is greener.
It isn’t making me feel like a man anymore.
Goddamn the easy way out.
It feels like I’m burning my insides.
Mother’s little helper has left me on the floor.
Why am I living this way?
What is the point of this medication?
It isn’t fixing what I want it to.
It seemed so great, I guess the grass is greener.
It isn’t helping me kill my pain anymore.
It’s not an awful life.
Why do I always make everything difficult?
Cut it like a puzzle, pile it up face down.
I always get in my way.
You’re fucking up everything that was fucked in the first place.
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2. |
Winter Was Freezing
04:31
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Cold child, calm down under the sun with me.
You never know what summertime may bring.
We clothe our bodies in skins cut from one another’s hearts
In chilly months we huddle up for warmth.
Then, tied together ,we forge makeshift bonds with flimsy words.
It keeps us one but cracks before our souls can save themselves.
Cold child, calm down under the sun with me.
You never know what summertime may bring.
In these frozen months
A half-wit hibernation slows our heartbeats
To a crawl. We forget each other.
When warmer skies prevail, we thaw and find ourselves alone,
Left to fend for ourselves once more as easy targets.
Cold child, calm down under the sun with me.
You never know what summertime may bring.
When you wake up warm
And your arms encircle
You’ll make your home where you stand.
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3. |
Paleo
02:02
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Close your eyes, open your mind.
Mind’s sanctuary and missing key
Blind treasure sold eyes to see
Hidden beneath tact, thoughtfulness
Too strong for world belief
Corroded within bold caves
Set in stone, never be free
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4. |
Burroughs
03:35
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Repeating patterns outline shameful habits.
Do you realize we're dying now?
Blinding light through constricted pupils.
Bleeding out.
Blinds drawn at five in the afternoon, awoken by lines across our brow painted with a palate of golden sky, with swollen faces and bloodshot eyes.
So this is what life has come to?
I can't see where this path leads.
We've taken this road before, but never this far.
There's no breadcrumbs to lead us home.
Will we ever come back, or is this all we know anymore?
Crossing treacherous terrain to collect our spoils brings us ever closer to losing our way in the darkness.
Don't look back behind you because I think we've come too far.
No, I can't see that life anymore. (Don't give up on us like that)
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