1. |
A Poor Judge of Distance
02:09
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What's with this place? I wrote a song to say.
Maybe just to paint a clearer picture, miss her.
On and on you'll sing about the things that don't make sense and why you don't sleep in your bed.
Because you can't recall my face from fear of what is in it's place.
Forever writing about change. Do you still want the same things?
Never had to talk to the mirror, telling lies that help and hinder.
It's under your breath. It's under your skin.
You recall the note you left inside her bed.
Happiness, it don't make sense until you wonder where it went.
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2. |
Disappearing Act
04:55
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Fallen victim to your face again.
Back inside this rented space.
Faking, stalling, screaming names, finding out that you're in need and not in love again.
Object of your own affection.
Fallen victim to your face again.
I dig my nails into the walls at night; hiding days beneath a picture frame.
Days inside, my "I's" crossed out in fives.
And all the things that I replaced with you are now afraid of me.
So I pretend I'm leaving.
Driving through the night to travel time.
Looking for a perfect tense.
I didn't come to change your mind.
I just had a lot on mine.
And all the things that I replaced with you are now afraid of me.
So I pretend I'm leaving.
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3. |
Agoraphobic
02:51
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I can feel it coming down.
I can feel the fever.
Couldn't wrap my mind around the cause without conceding my feeble scraps of sanity.
Count it off 1, 2, 3 and jump right in.
To dismay and decay. What you get at the end and you try to pretend the price you paid was worth all of your pain.
Take off your shackles. Rinse off the dirt and raise your head my brother; this time will work.
Count it off 1, 2, 3 and jump right in.
And I can't stay. It's too late to relate. A cold but forced reaction.
So carry on and go without the benefit of my doubt.
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4. |
Mind the Gap
01:04
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5. |
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Have your iniquities become your day to day?
Have your fallacies become the only way?
Desperate and wide eyed just like you, I come to see.
Suffocate slowly beneath deaf ears and apologies.
You lie cold and restless, looking to your scars for answers.
And so the story goes.
Grainy nightmares on a screen of tired places, nameless faces.
None you want to meet.
Just wish this was a dream.
Some want patience.
You want more than all of these empty bottles all across your floor.
But you can't seem to ignore all those things you swore you could afford to lose.
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6. |
Boundary
04:11
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Better be a little better than you were before.
Part of you is falling father from true north.
Hands are callused by the slamming of your doors that lead to something greater than this.
All over everything, your insecurity.
And you can never seem to cross that yellow line.
It's common tragedy, your insecurity.
Another number just to stand in line.
And all you need to know is you will never find yourself until you come down from your throne.
Surprised by what you see but not by what you get.
Feel your temples burn.
Find another time to stall your emptiness, justify the benefits of every door that you closed.
Have you had enough lost time and dedication from fear and trepidation?
Another wasted year.
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7. |
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I know your'e paranoid this town is closing in on you.
I've seen you stare into corners, into fear completely consumed.
Well take your time but don't think too much.
Indecision sits and these weathered hands rust.
And through a small line of sight we make the best of what we've got.
And no we don't make it out alive.
So pick yourself up.
You empathize with them all and these shallow consequences.
That human side starts to creep in and your hands are not.
You still feel like the victim.
A simple reaction and hesitation when there's so much left to do.
Look back and learn.
Decision
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8. |
Tired Lungs
03:36
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Tired and cold.
Your bitter soul cannot atone.
You keep heading on subjected to what you keep creating.
Just recreate.
Go try to be anything to justify your means.
All my tired lungs can tell you is not enough until you try.
Empty thoughts of yours convincing, conceiving.
Telling your jet black heart that you know what it wants.
I turn around to see you at your best while you regret under your shallow breath.
Soaking in apathy.
It's sick and it's sad to see what, my friend, you've come to be.
Dedicated to the past and all the pain that you amass.
How will it last?
With hollow eyes that strain to see for what your crippled heart still beats.
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