1. |
Youth On Repeat
03:02
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We still carry this human weight
Searching for warmth to extinguish the darkness
Inside of me
I only found temporary relief
Satan lives in that bottle and he sparks the blush in those little rose cheeks
I’ll never find my place
A culture of escape has got its nails in my back
Awake but never more far away
My high spirits never solved a single thing
Feeling like the poison was me and only me
We still carry this human weight
Searching for warmth to extinguish the darkness
Inside of me
It’s getting too much to take
Satan lives in that bottle and he sparks the blush in those little rose cheeks
Cold nights spent on your own
I crept into your arms
Your softly whispered broken home
Slowly building comfort in your pain
And in vain I tried to take, take, take
To feel the sting of when it gives away
One day I’ll probably find myself
I will be too god damn far gone from help
I’m gonna break
Counting 1, 2, 3 breathe
I’m a slave to these things
They’re only momentary
So much talk of make and mend.
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2. |
Nazarene
03:14
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My life ain't all okay
But it ain't tragedy
But I like to parade it
Attention dependency
Am I going to hell?
That'd be a damn shame
I'd love to meet my God
Maybe pick at his brain
Oh mighty divine
Where's a man gotta walk
To find no blood on his blade
So he can rest in his dreams
Not wake in the nightmares
Of the men he's erased
Oh if I was going to hell that'd be a damn shame
My daddy a narcissist
Restricted to his pocket watch
My mother the blasphemer
Who opened her mind to the other gods
My own beloved brother who could do no wrong to me
mostly abandoned by my daddy
long lost child of apathy
Well lord,
Could you save me?
Could you save us all?
Feed us to vice to sate your cauldron
Slipping down into the funeral boil
Today we gather in the heat
My friends and family
Made fallible
But forsaken by the maker
I refuse
No I refuse to believe it
If I was going to hell that'd be a damn shame
After all family, reunion's a word that's bitter to the taste.
I'm only a victim
But you said we all sinners
When he rise from the dead
Well it's death he deliver
Take us deep down below destined for the flames
Almighty
Erase me
We a long way from the altar
Oh holy, holy.
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3. |
The Mute Season
03:33
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This is my daily plea
This is my martyr’s prayer
This is my crimson leech
This is my black despair
This is days spent in bed
Wasting away for what
Cause if I stepped outside I wouldn’t find a God
This is my longing hunger
This is my open page
These are my shaking hands
This is my final fade.
Here I am again
Stuck in bed
A bottle full of pills and my stomachs sick
Lungs full of dust
Four thousand thoughts
I’m stuck in my head and I’m dreadfully lost
Your idea of hell might not look like this
A cornucopia of flames where the devil lives
But for me
The flames
They linger on my lips
And the devils on the page in the fucking ink.
I’m fighting for my life
Down in this hole
I feel my mind slowly slipping away from me
Crawling on hands and knees screaming
For this life to give me something
Clawing at the walls
(So prescribe me depression tell me it’s all in my head.
That year I spent in mute season I’ll never forget.)
This is my daily plea
This is my martyr’s prayer
This is my crimson leech
This is my black despair
This is days spent in bed
Wasting away for what
Cause If I stepped outside I wouldn’t find a god.
This is my longing hunger
This is my open page
These are my shaking hands
This is my final fade.
These are my wasted years
Wasted youth
Tar black heart.
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4. |
Defeatist
02:33
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There’s a caution in those eyes
An age I’ve never seen
A hatred in his life
I swear that wont be me
Am I an ember in the warm hearth?
Destined to shine brighter till I burn out?
I think I’m falling out of love with the idea of playing a part
In the protocols and duties that have stolen my heart from its proper place
It’s locked anyway
And with my half baked motivations
I’m a sedentary animal
Forever expectant for invitation
There’s a caution in those eyes
An age I’ve never seen
A hatred in his life
I swear that wont be me
All but an ember in the warm hearth
Destined to shine brighter till I burn out
I’m falling out of love with the idea of playing a part
In the protocols and duties that have stolen my heart from it’s proper place
Every Tuesday night when I’m feeling blue
Gathering dust in the sheets
Staring up at the roof
I’ll tell myself that I’ve done enough
Or I’m too low to try and keep myself
Moving and chipping away
At the 9 to 5 sledge that I’ll grow to
Hate.
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5. |
Red Cross
04:06
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Paint yourself a Red Cross
From the blood you sucked from their throats
Drain out the hope
Hang yourself to shiver
The young boy sighed
As he stepped into the house he'd occupied
For most of his louder life
But all was silent in the basement of his mind
He checked over his shoulders not once but two times
Looking
For a familiar face
A honest word
A slither of the light
But found none
As he thought to himself this time is the time I'll have to face up
Paint yourself a Red Cross
From the blood you sucked from their throats
Drain out the hope
The basement gave a hiss
The concrete cracked beneath his feet and bricks turned to smoulder
In a moment fever shot up through him everything else reduced to empty threats
Trying to hold his resolve
Trying to hold on
The blackest dark came to manifest out of the tiles, out of the drawers out of the trembling glass panes.
He thought of floating through the doorway fleeing to a country of tropical heat as the air started to swirl and his bones began to snap freeze under the flesh resisting the urge to scrape it away falling to the floor curled up, fetal hands stitched to his knees.
The manifest began to speak:
“I know all your secrets. I know you can’t be honest. I’ve seen you bruise and blister friends while preaching love and tolerance. I’ve seen you spend days under the covers self-hating to avoid your problems. I’ve got your release. Isn’t this what you wanted? A way to escape? I promise you won’t feel a thing. No one would really care if it came to it. Used your family as a crutch now you’re hated for it. Still don’t really have much to say for it? What about that time you took your hand to your mother? Beat and traumatised your brother? Hands cut up from the plaster, don’t think I’m forgetting any time soon.
This doesn’t just stay between me and you and maybe you’ll actually visit your grandmother soon like you never did when the time was spent on you like ‘Oh, no it’s alright, I’m sure she’ll pull through soon.’
You. You.
You are the poison and deep down you’ll blame it on a temporary father. Only saw him six times a year for close to a decade feeling the space he left long after leaving. Stress and sickness in your mother, struggling, trying to break that even saw his acid tongue in your own reflection causing the collapse of your feelings, breaking relationships like stale bread, searching for returned affection and meaning. So I hope you like your bed. You made it and you deserve it. You should never really leave because you're comfortable here with me.
Rest. Rest forever now you've earned it.
Sold your soul away.
There's nothing really for you outside.
I'll smother you in black sheets so you can never leave.
No you'll never, ever leave alive."
Epilogue:
Not knowing the day, the month, the year,
The boy in the basement told him to Rest Easy.
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