1. |
Joyhawk
03:51
|
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Jack and coke in his cup, he adjusts to the common comforts we've grown out of since we were young
And it felt all the same, where we last left off yeah we were both to blame for the days that we never played our parts the proper way
Anyway, it doesn't matter because I'm just glad you came
Made plans to get coffee when the sun left the gate
But I couldn't keep them, and I'm still running late
Finished and discarded your cigarette out on the porch
And unassumingly walked through the door, clean through my bad days like they didn't exist anymore
185 uninspired, lifeless miles back home
Running in slow, projecting dancing figures on the road
I'll subdue the fury with four hours left until work in the morning
Left an impression to only
the bats that reside in the ceiling
Finished and discarded your cigarette out on the porch
We talked in circles and I sat on the floor
and you threw yourself on my bad days...
So fuck the street leeches who towed your car
for the city's weekend ransom
While they were stripping the streets under eyes of the police, you caved for the first drag you could get your hands on.
I said I'd be up before you left, I slept late instead
It could be nothing for two years or ten
|
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2. |
ICONARTIST
02:27
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Idolism is a luxury
When you’re controlled by your conditions
You’re no friend of clarity
But I’ve been so desensitized
And I’ve grown so numb to what I find
Portion your position carefully
(Turns out there was never a remedy)
Yeah I’d love to see your statue but stone cracks eventually.
And even though I’d love to find
Someone to believe in sometime
It’s just part of my design
Oh please don’t entertain me just carry on, carry on
Keep composure, savor your applause
Don’t entertain me just move along, move along
Cynicism sings for the rest of us.
Throw me to the flames, let’s throw a parade
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3. |
Marathon
03:26
|
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If nothing really matters to you,
throw me to the flames, let's throw a parade.
Make time to make way.
I'm alive, I'm in love with a cynical son.
Use me as a tool, not as a fucking crutch.
So let's savor the taste of our cynical state.
It's so damn deserving.
I'm alive, I'm aware of the cross to bear.
Though nobody fucking cares.
You never needed meaning to mean well.
And you'll see that apathy is hard to sell.
We're standing under the same sun. It's something that was never planned.
Though we're not bleeding the same blood, some empathy is high in demand.
So sing along with a tame-tongue.
It's a standard that we set.
Like a nod from a stranger, I'll embrace the insignificance.
The less I know of the seeds I've sewn the better.
But maybe apathy is a necessary pleasure.
To be in a constant marathon, just making it up as we go along.
I'll surrender to stasis in due time.
Life's a joke so let's live like the punchline.
Maybe constant commotion is the key to life.
I promise it's easy if you try.
If nothing really matters to you,
then baby it's a matter of time.
If nothing really matters to you,
you'll never see the finish line.
I'm alive, I'm a cynical son.
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4. |
Monarch
04:51
|
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Seventeen alarms ago,
I swiftly bypassed my clock radio
and sunk back down into my hole
haphazardly.
I'm almost smart enough
to outsmart me.
In my head, ego dreams;
The cars in front of me split evenly
Playing tetris to accommodate
me
the protagonist all-encompassing,
daydreaming across the red sea
driving northbound on 43
But I drag concrete feet across the floor
Sidestepping past the leather burning through yours
watch the colors pool around my feet,
and you're standing too close to me.
Now my feet breathe
while twisting in knots
Constantly turning copper to rot
One or two quiet months above doubt
Fell for secure and the bottom fell out
I traded comfort and flexibility,
carbon for security
A backstock smile and fluorescent blue bones,
A flowerbed below for a handful of stones
And all these new kids, they turn like the leaves.
When they look at the monarch, what do they see?
Seasoned and stock-still
Yellowed from the light
It stares back at me.
A comfort trap disguised as stability
Standing stark still on a trapeze
Juggling concrete blocks tied to my feet
and dragging them home with me
I can be more than the sum of my yield
I can be more than the product of my labor
A backstock smile and blood orange bones
A flowerbed below : A handful of stones
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5. |
Sealegs
03:35
|
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What was life before the highway?
Before I drove the wrong way
home tonight
For the second time
Not on purpose, but because it
felt right
A force of habit
or lapse in brain
My muscles resigned to motion learned before they were trained
~~~
Did I set myself up?
Seduced by the view
Reduced to a life in command and commute
Boxed my belongings but I left all my shit
Now I make endless trips back for it
So it only follows
everything that makes me feel safe is only borrowed.
But I'm better today
I have what I sought
And all this good fortune always lead to grim thought
Jesus, it's almost instant
I turn copper to rot
Did I set myself up?
Seduced by the view
Reduced to a life in command and commute
Overcommitted and under the gun,
But I stare long at the monarch
like I think it's the sun
Turning twisting tangled knots, so why must copper turn to rot?
But comfort can be such a thrill,
the privilege of simply sitting still
That's how I know it's a new year
Just talking over the karaoke noise
with the spirits of water and main
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6. |
TWOBELLS
01:46
|
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Oh no, the adderall is finally taking its toll
With empty head I piss and moan
Keep in mind, I've survived lower lows
A thousand times.
There’s higher hills to climb.
Oh no, the doctor's on vacation in Mexico
Thought that my appointment was wednesday though
He's not a source of rest, he's a kingpin with a desk
Build me a bridge, build me a boat
Build me a city and clarity will follow in time.
In time, I’ll turn our damage to rhyme.
For now, in time
I’ll make my misfortune divine
|
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7. |
Juniper
04:37
|
|||
Someplace between caution and joy, I'm trying to accept your love
Or this feeling, this explorative gamble
that exists at the mercy of our summer months
This front of falling backwards to whim and mercy,
though our bodies tense up on the way down
Our muscles
lock
and
brace when
heart
and
brain
fall two steps behind
You said “It never comes that easy”
But it’s not this complex thing that you create in your brain
Like a fortunate tourist in this landscape you’re painting
As if to ask me, “have you ever let yourself bend to whim and mercy?”
My love is plenty and deficient all at once.
When time and circumstance add up and it's not enough
And feelings stubbornly refuse to subscribe to foolish misconceptions of blind faith in sight.
Falling backwards
Muscles tensing
Words feel heavy
And you look at me, as if to say:
“Just leave your doubts out by the doorway
It's not this complex thing like you create in your brain”
A fortunate tourist in this space you've created
It's only temporary until the moments pass
and my arms feel the weight
of this joy inhibited we can't shake.
It's a point that exists between fleeting and fixed
Undefined, ambiguous
How do I let you let me in
and block out the song of the cardinals in
my mind projecting this scene of affection
How do I detach and phase unaffected?
Somewhere above reason and doubt, is a place where we can breathe,
let ourselves be.
Learn to exhale without fear of failing.
You put your heart on your sleeve and it wears me too; but it's okay.
It's only temporary when you hold your breath
as if to say…
A fortunate tourist in this space we've created
It's only temporary until my arms feel the weight
of this joy inhibited...
|
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8. |
Elliott
04:05
|
|||
"Ask and you'll receive,"
When you all but state the need.
What am i before the product of my lowest qualities?
I said I'd be your sponge, now we're both torn up and soaked
I thought that you could use me and I choked.
You choked on your words
on their way out of your mouth
Your most concise conceptions couldn't stomach all the doubt.
You're caught in the middle
It felt uncomfortable
to see real shame
Deep-seated,
Tangible
So I look down.
The stones weaken the whiskey in my glass.
The minutes pass.
When you look at me, what do you see
except the sum of parts of my closest company?
Passion is such a pretty plan to stare at thoughtfully
Dreams of ambition; intangibly plenty.
Deficient.
"Right where I need to be"
is nothing that's ever occurred to me.
I suspect you feel the same.
Spend your days reconstructing models of yourself:
Improve romantically
"You'll sort it all out,"
but who's the reassurance for?
I want to be supportive and I don't think I know how anymore.
You were centered in the entropy,
I was contemplating legacies
straight-edging boxes/screaming obscenities
Dancing through the weeds in online echo assemblies
And we both end up where they smile at our names
Wax romantic at the bar,
exist passively
Talking through the day's defeats and whether there's a way
to love and to fuck
without inducing pain
I thought that I could shoulder the doubt that left you soaked
I thought that you could use me, and I choked
I thought that I could help you, now we're both just more alone
I thought that you could use me and I...
|
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9. |
Shiva
03:34
|
|||
Being of sound mind,
Lay me down slow
Keep the casket closed
Let my body just divide
And let the air decide
Where my segments should reside
I’d like to know where my ashes go
Where my pieces lie
I’ll calmly comply
Patiently wait to die a second time
Please remind yourself, I’m not the dust that sits on your shelf
I never was a saint, so I'll just pretend
We all just need a place where we can break the fall.
Promise me this isn’t where existence ends.
There’s more in the air than the oxygen.
Pleading that breathing isn’t just a waste of time. Pleading and pleading that the feeling finally subsides
I’ll see all the places that I never could have reached with this bother of a body and these unfortunate feet.
I’m at peace when I’m in pieces, and I’m a sucker for a secret that you’re never gonna know
Is it true, that life is just a loan?
When the floor caves in, you'll feel you're right at home
Is it true, our brand of misery
is the one to be
|
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10. |
Sweepstakes
03:22
|
|||
It's only 2pm, and I just stare at the wall
And I could save the day, rewrite my misery
But that would break protocol
To think that anyone would be doing anything other than turning in early, don't they know that deprecation is free of all the stipulations,
The obligations,
The perks of existing
It's only 4pm
And I still stare at the wall
I could participate and congregate away,
But I'll just ignore your calls
To think that anyone would rather be
wasting all their dopamine
Let it flow
Take it slow
It's only 2pm
I've already given in
And I've surrendered my skin
|
||||
11. |
GERM
04:20
|
|||
Sinking swiftly
I’m the germ of a constant condition
Shaking, twitching
It’s become quite the tradition
Never could nurture, composure never came easy
Because the lines that you always lived by,
they don’t mean shit to me.
So you want to fill a void
But there’s nothing left to say
You wanna feel like there’s a voice,
Well good luck finding space
I’ll wait to tolerate the taste.
Take another victory lap and
pat yourself right on the back, it’s true:
I found higher ground than you.
I don’t give a shit about your solipsistic ego trips, it’s true
I will never salute the mess I’ve made with the distance
But I will surrender to whatever reminds me that I exist.
The lone contrarian who bends and twists his wrist
at the thought of slowly sinking in
I promise you can do better than this.
But you've gotta fill the void
with something new and bright to say
As if you ever had the choice to fill the empty space
I’ll wait to tolerate the taste.
Cross your arms, turn and scoff
You've got no step to walk it off
I’m just the germ of a constant condition
|
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