1. |
[Introduction]
01:14
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2. |
1685-
01:53
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I can't keep up with the metronome
I can't play to the orchestra
I can't to march to the beat of the drum
Won't you teach me to play?
On a path that's twisting like my mind
I've stayed stuck
Because stagnancy is the closest thing I have to consistency.
Risk comes with hurt and heart
Indolence just comes with a bottle
Drink to all the times I've failed.
Die a drunken poet like the rest of them.
I can't keep up with the metronome
I can't play to the orchestra
I can't march to the beat of the drum
Won't you teach me to play?
I can't keep up with the metronome
I can't play to the orchestra
I can't march to the beat of the drum
I need a better score
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3. |
This Time This Year
02:51
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Hands held high
But your palms aren't open
They're gripped to the pole
attached to your king
as you wave him through polluted heavens
You say you seek the truth
I believe you when you say you're on your knees.
But with a flag as your blind fold you can't see it's not to pray.
Spewing washed up lines to the burnt out "sinner"
saying hell's what they deserve
But if we all act like you we don't need a god for us to burn.
Power that's predestined.
Torment that's praised.
Punishment of the innocent, still punishment of the depraved.
So when we tell our children about the blood of the lamb is it a result of the nails or just the blood on his hands?
In this land, the chorus that's sung
is "give us blood to cool our tongues."
If this is the captain of the ship, it's time for him to go down with it.
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4. |
Calendar
02:33
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Seems like everyone I know
Is lighting bonfires
And I'm another year older
Still toying with matches
I can't make sense of it
I can't say
I wanna turn back clocks and days
But if I could
Just for one second hold their place
And I crossed the country
Or at least I guess the east coast
The Atlantic's getting colder
While I start to wish it lasted
I can't make sense of it
I can't say
I wanna turn back clocks and days
But if I could
Just for one second hold their place
I'm tearing
Pages from the calendar
Waiting
To see handwriting
I'm not chasing down any ghosts
I'm not getting excited
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5. |
eighteen fifteen;
04:11
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I heard tales of grace
That its nothing that I paid for
And if I stood still I'd hear the small voice
But I need you so much more than a conscience
Be the marrow in my aching bones
Be the blood in my whiskey veins
Be the short breaths in my smoke filled lungs
My ambivalence has exhausted me to the point of apathy
I'm infatuated with the clothes of sheep
I wish that I could ignore the teeth
I almost blasphemed the ghost
Because apparently he can't take a joke
And that way I could never go back
But I was always too scared to go that far
My ambivalence has exhausted me to the point of apathy
I've wrapped myself in the clothes of sheep
I ignore my teeth until I bite my tongue and cheek
I am cleansed
I am damned
I'm a product of environment
It rips my mind apart like thorns weaved inside the crown
I am cleansed
I am damned
I'm a product of my mother's hands
It rips my mind apart like thorns weaved inside the crown
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6. |
June
04:44
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I find you in each morning
The sun and how the floorboards creak
The broken parts of my body
You didn't have the courtesy
I find you in every piece
Connecting every inch of me
Your fingerprints on every stitch
I find you in the morning air
My shower walls and all your hair
And when I lay down in my last breath before bed
Lay me down and close my eyes
Wake me up with the sunrise
Swear to me I'm having a dream
It's pained and shallow breathing
From one too many cigarettes
I guess that I'm not over it
I say because I think you ought to know
I'm grieving now but nobody died
Dressed in black and Sunday nice
I keep staring at the door
I'd give it all and not think twice
To see what's held behind your eyes
To remind you why you loved me at all
The silence here is deafening
The loneliness it weighs on me
Expecting you to walk through that door like you do
I keep a seat open for you
It's pained and shallow breathing
From one too many cigarettes
I guess that I don't wanna quit
I say because I think you ought to know
I await the rising of the sun
When I can rise from bed and say
Your soul doesn't live here anymore
I was dying to see you
I'm dying to see you
I'm dying
(Your branches aren't here anymore
But your roots remain
Your branches aren't here)
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