1. |
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My dearest friends, what's been made of us again?
We're back to broken bones; begging, pleading for an end.
Can't you see this whole while they've had us by our throats?
Sad to say, day-by-day, it's only what we chose.
We're always dredging for more distance;
we'd drown if it made us 'different',
so we'll suffer through asphyxiation at our own insistence.
Every lost and listless spirit.
Every severed stretch of hands.
Every rabid riot ridiculing bright, ripe romance.
The mind can truly ascend to heights far beyond our grasp,
so when will we reach from these shallows we've called truth?
Why must we accept all we are told
and never question anything ambiguous or veiled?
This time I swear we'll more than simply be.
We'll care about where the road ends,
each breath birthed by hope.
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2. |
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With our sights set on the sunrise of a shift in stroke, just know,
these dying days are no longer our own.
The past will keep regression and regret.
//
But I'm stray and ruined from a decade of despair,
and dangerous is the mark of monuments
built by barren hands.
Love, I know where there's a will there too is a way,
but some days are like a hurricane; void of mercy or escape.
Lately I've been longing for a certain yesterday.
Depraved, the way a train of thought can unchain and derail.
I so desperately dream of the days that sang a chorus
of great depth, true love, and course;
as if somehow, the sunshine would never ignore us.
When words were more than words,
a gift wasn't always too a curse,
and we weren't afraid of what we were feeling
and why we fucking felt it.
Tell me we can surely find redemption amidst this rubble.
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3. |
Viva Fucking Emptiness
03:04
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For these frames are failing fast,
as they were fashioned from fault,
and every house that I pass is entirely of glass.
Stones in hand, we demand to be immortalized by beasts.
Flaunting cheap quips and photographs,
they're now all we represent.
How hollow one must be, to adore and live for
the triumphal acclaim of vermin, vultures, and whores.
It's all but trivial, emotionless, self-indulgent shit.
There's no meaning, nor merit;
just baneful plagues of pretension.
Claw, gnaw, and waste your way toward
a sad excuse for happiness.
What became of genuine warmth and heartfelt interaction?
What became of the days
we would gaze into each others' eyes?
Dear, where's the thievery in being truly loved by a precious few?
This soulless succubus has sucked us dry of our lamplight.
It breaks my heart to know that you'll always need more
than the here and now; our hands woven as one.
You're too afraid to love anyone but yourself.
Don't you ever tire of groveling in graves
beneath a rotting moon?
The use of two lame, idle hands
wont shed this constricting cocoon.
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4. |
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Still all wrapped up in webs of wicked words and dispute,
too few decide to live their lives
with light, open hearts and minds.
Grotesque is the grave that lays base, barbaric bones to bed
and cavalier contempt for what you don't yet understand
will most surely guide you there far before I.
Careless soul,
it seems you have forgotten how to sing with selflessness.
Our harmony has been hushed to a hemorrhaging hum.
The tune you choose to spill and spew shamefully shrills
with arrogance, ignorance, and blasphemous hate.
What's with the great rising expanse
of polluting and persecuting the abstract?
Goddamn these dogmatic wars;
more calamitous fucking nonsense.
It only fans the flames of division and collapse.
Live and let live, oh, love and be loved,
and for once just turn that scornful cheek.
For it's when we judge that we too
become the subjects of review.
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5. |
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And after all, amidst the grief shines a light
that penetrates all angst and casts relief,
so long as you know in which direction to gaze.
Maybe all the while what we really needed
was this simple change of perspective;
that just maybe through all of the violence
there is peace and understanding.
Hope for the hopeless; a lamp for the lost.
No more will our daydreams remain to be
solely characters of thought.
Out of our heads and onto the canvas,
such beautiful hues of pink and blue.
Why not bloom with radiance today,
for who's to know if there's still tomorrow?
Though I'd say we've seen our fair share of war and death,
let's not forget that we found love in a loveless place.
Now I ask just this one thing of you friends:
bring forth floods of warmth
and trust that we still have something in which to rejoice.
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