1. |
Some Sins
05:03
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Singed and licked, the devil’s tongue cleaned our wounds and sent us back to the line for more. I don’t feel anything anymore, I don’t hear you yelling through that burst of sunlight. The nerve is quiet now, lightning now, memory now.
Feels cold on the inside, wrinkled folds and dirty gold on the inside and dying on the inside doesn’t always look like weathered skin. The nerves go quiet now, like lightening now, a memory drowned.
Singed and licked, the devil’s tongue cleaned our wounds and sent us back to the line for more. I don’t feel anything anymore, I don’t hear you yelling through that burst of sunlight. The nerve is quiet now, lightning now, memory now.
Looks like heaven but it tastes like death and are they just the same? From the heartbeat in the morgue to the hard greeting north saying you’re not welcome, go. There isn’t always a way home, sometimes that road is closed. Stretched and bound, the nerve is quiet now, lightning now, memory now.
Singed and licked; the devil’s tongue cleaned our wounds and sent us back to the line for more. I don’t feel anything anymore, I can't hear you yelling through that burst of sunlight. The nerve is quiet now, lightning now, Frayed at the edges- ribbons of sanity shift with every twitch of the clock, every drift of the sand, every reach of the hand.
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2. |
Gravity
04:10
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Heavier than the grace of our youth, breath tastes like the bricks are stacked ear high, vice tight and the lights are long gone. Vision in the wind on our faces splitting the numb; a fiery future for a dry past. Aisles of these, aisles of dreams taking on decay, they stretch for years behind us and our wings can’t shake the dirt. Aisles of these, aisles of dreams taking on decay, they stretch for years behind us and our wings can’t shake the dirt.
Feathers turn to flame.
I know you’re going going gone and long in the trail, long in the smoke, long in the flipping flailing stacks of pictures.
I know you’re going going and gone and long in the trail long in the smoke long in the shuffling shaking stacks of pictures perfect in every way slipping away behind me.
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3. |
Fragments
05:02
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In stacks and stacks of them. The years are colder the further back they go, but still have heart beats. Still have me right where they want me, still have me tight where they’ve got me.
I built the city on a fault line on a glacier, melting from the top and splitting from the bottom. Still have me right where they want me, still have me tight where they’ve got me.
Carving out an inch of time dying from both ends. Destroyer of mine. Destroyer of mine.
Rows and rows of them. The years are colder the further back they go, still have me right where they want me. Still have me tight where they’ve got me.
Carving out an inch of time dying from both ends. Destroyer of mine. Destroyer of mine.
Black hole- gravity pull...
Black hole- gravity pull- fever squeezed through the vapor of a memory. Real for a moment then dust, then shook out in the dark, shook out in the heart. Still have me right where they want me, still have me tight where they’ve got me then dust- then shook out in the dark, shook out in the heart
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4. |
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Dance motherfucker.
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5. |
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I see the ashes and I see the dust and the framework of history left out to rust. I see the tree line erupting in hellfire vile and brushed over souls of the world’s pyre. I see the tear drops with each cloud of ice you exhale in the sunlight its fading just right tonight. I see you shiver and I see the words fall flat, I see you hanging on hanging on hanging on and I’ve heard this one before.
Echo off the branch, a second off the leaf. The third imprinted on my ear drum, drumming the hard way home. Stop me when it doesn’t feel right. Soon you won’t feel a thing under the stare of our shadows, chasing us through the drift. And does the numb hand read in these towers of white wind spinning in our steps? Does a numb ear hear the words?
It’s getting cold, it’s getting late, trading in my body for heartbeats to watch it tick away, watch it fly away.
Soon you won’t feel a thing under the stare of our shadows, chasing us through the drift.
Echo off the branch, a second off the leaf. The third imprinted on my ear drum, drumming the hard way home.
Stop me when it doesn’t feel right. Soon you won’t feel a thing under the stare of our shadows chasing us through the drift.
Echo off the branch, a second off the leaf, the third imprinted on my ear drum, drumming the hard way home.
Stop me when it doesn’t feel right. Soon you won’t feel a thing under the stare of our shadows, chasing us through the drift. And does the numb hand read in these towers of white wind spinning in our steps? Does a numb ear hear the words?
I see the tear drops with each cloud of ice you exhale in the sunlight its fading just right tonight. I see you shiver and I see you hanging on hanging on hanging on...I see you letting go.
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warblade Rochester, New York
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