1. |
Drift Close In
11:01
|
|||
|
Broken of what was left
Left with just empty words that were left unsaid
You thought you were wise
Until you realized
It was bland
You're the only thing that felt homely
But now I'm your phony
If I don't find what you longed for
and repair the puzzle
of broken windows on your floor
You were right
You're always right
And you're just
Nothing more
|
||||
2. |
F.R.O.S.T
07:34
|
|||
|
(I saw the Arrival)
At first feigning survival
It was clear there was home in bibles
Miracles and beauty embraced
and you're still too focused on your shape
unmoved by a face
(I thought that was okay)
Frost covers your skin
Try and stay warm
because the darkness in your eyes fauns
and before it's too late it will be gone
|
||||
3. |
||||
4. |
||||
5. |
Shadow Stance
05:15
|
|||
|
I keep crashing cars for a call
I rarely see you anymore at all
It's real in the moment of self disgust
I realize you're the only one who trusts me enough
But I keep mistaking love for luck
I used to follow you home
And lie on your floor
While you would play with a couple of strings
With steady hands
I wish back then you could see the world through my lens
Always forever in my shadow stance
Left behind with malnourished breaths
You flourished in the future tense
|
||||
6. |
Shade
15:01
|
|||
|
I used to see you
And you're unreadable shades
It made you hard to recognize
That was okay
I knew you unhappy
rarely unwell
We'd line up in the front and backseats
screaming obscenities
But the notes we would shout
couldn't replace our days
and the shit that you made
weren't the breaths that I'd await
I can sense your safer
I can hope your words are truth
I'm not sure of the changes you've made
I'm just sure of the time that we lose
So now I await for the songs that you sing
And the little bit of commentary coming in-between
And try and paint a picture of what you've come to be
But I'm unsure of what is real and what is make believe
|
||||
7. |
Television Dreams
03:32
|
|||
|
I haven't smoked in a couple of weeks
And now I sleep too much
I'm bathing later every single day
Using shower handles as my crutch
I should be reading these books I was gave
But don't care much for what they have to say
Pleasure in watching their meanings decay
Sick of mixing shitty whiskey
With lemon aid and iced tea
I just wanna live In my television dreams
And feeling my old radio-waves gently waving goodbye to me
Sick of back aches from lying down
Sore hands from hitting the ground
But caffeine and crooked fingers
Can't break through where I am bound
And keep on writing
To fail my glistening lie
|
||||
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