1. |
A Pale Light
04:32
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Our entrances creak where we spread out our dead
But our dead never speak, they only listen instead
I've gnawed the truth for a week, now I can taste it
It's all so circadian
On the backs of their beasts, where the lay down their heads
Instead of dancing with sheep, they paint red flags on their heads
I'd love to council the weak, but can they take it?
And I don't know what difference it would make
Mistakes always bleed through the company stitch
while the patriots pray their little prayers for the rich
I speak an homage to truth, a dedication
I'm sick of occupying all of my time
Our entrances creak where they lay down their heads
But our dead never speak, they paint red flags on their heads
I've gnawed the truth for a week. Can they take it?
It's all so insidious
And our flags have been dead 'cause they're stitched with deceit
And I just can't approve the lying gifts at your feet
I've seen an entrance to exit the excess
I'm feeling pretty anxious about that curse
When the dead make their beds, I wonder if they can dream
I wonder if they can tell me everything that they've seen
'cause if they've witnessed eternity, I want to know
WHEN I SEE THE WORLD, I SEE A PALE LIGHT
WHEN I FEEL THE WORLD, I FEEL A LANDMINE
WHEN I HEAR THE WORLD, I HEAR A LONG SIGH
HAVE WE BEEN TAUGHT TO FORGET?
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2. |
Evil
03:57
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How can you waste another way to peel back our acts of devastation?
How can you ever sleep at all with all of the constant desperation?
What makes you psyched to break the dreams of all of the tenants of the nation?
'CAUSE YOU GOT EVIL UNDER YOUR SKIN
Why instigate elimination of contradictive information?
Why blind the sheep to let the wolves in when you promised proud protection?
Why simulate a sacred mission when all your thoughts and prayers are fiction?
'CAUSE YOU GOT EVIL UNDER YOUR SKIN
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3. |
Fiction
05:19
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Superstition has a way of being echoed in the grave.
Cancel all your plans today. They're gone, they're gone, they're gone.
Every sentence left behind gets paragraphed into a shrine.
Pencil in your alibis. They're gone, they're gone, they're gone.
SUCH INNOCENCE IS FICTION,
A SLOW GLORY WRAPPED IN SENTIMENTAL EXHIBITION.
I KNOW HOW IT HURTS TO BE ALONE.
NOT ALL ARROGANCE IS FICTION WHEN YOUR STORY'S ENDING.
WHEN YOUR STORY'S ENDING, DON'T SUFFER THE CONTRACT.
I KNOW HOW IT HURTS TO CRUMBLE
Instead distance slips away, sheep-clothed and kicking down the gates.
Cancel all your marches now. They're gone, they're gone.
In place, stake your claim to shine a simple star to light the sky.
Order all those trumpets down. They're gone, they're gone, they've sounded.
All tradition has a way of being canceled and replaced.
Echo all your fears away. How long, how long, how long?
It's too mentioned how the weak hibernate in jealousy.
It's too fictional here.
It's too fictional here.
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4. |
I Don't Suppose
03:59
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Half-fired and ready to pertain
Our stains inevitably remain
Backed up by every hour you gave
I guess that's the way
And paradise will wait
But I can hardly approach the place
Without the wisdom or will or grace
And I guess that's the way
What are we supposed to fear?
What are we supposed to encounter here?
What are we obliged to believe and endear?
Is there really a way?
IF I DON'T KNOW, I DON'T SUPPOSE.
ALL THE TALK AND THE SHOCK ARE SLOWLY DELETING CONCENTRATION.
I DON'T CARE IF I DON'T EQUATE.
ALL THE SHOCK AND THE STOCK ARE SLOWLY DELETING CONVERSATION.
But there never ceased to be
Plans, patience, and perpetuality
And I can't believe that I haven't seen
And I guess that's the way
When the silences appear
I hope I make it away from here
I hope I can cradle away the fear
I hope that's the way
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5. |
Poets Dreaming
04:31
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Sweet soul signs, the kind that look into you
Such soul signs can only make you be true
POETS DREAMING
STARS STREAMING
IT CONCRETED
HEARTS BREATHING
WORDS WREATHING
WE CONCRETED
I don't know if the stars were out on that night
But I think so.
They must have been because they aligned.
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6. |
Set Us On Fire
02:53
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All these scarred sheets in a scab riddled book
Scribbling out the pages where the scholars would look
As infraction, as a fraction of your claim, as a fraction of the sane
All scratched and flamed from the firecracker crown that you wear
All shiny and boldened and backwards, yet golden, yet patched up, yet sold into silence and secrecy
COME ON AND SET US ON FIRE
WE GOT A SPARK HALF-LIT
SO SET US ON FIRE
WE GOT A RIP HALF-STITCHED
Caused permutation, a sanction
A situation that's bracing for a parade of skies
Complicated, yet simple in its own design
Bubbling up the magma of the MAGA, let's make it all burn down again, sure.
But don't embrace the temptation of erasing the station of your own integrity.
Let's all be free.
Let's all perceive.
Let's all make sure we all can breathe.
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