1. |
It, I Won't Find
01:28
|
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|
With filthy hands
(even alone) I can admit
It, I won't find
I just keep searching for that piece of gold
In the pile of shit you left on my life
|
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2. |
Sleep Like No Tomorrow
03:43
|
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|
we crash ourselves as cars do
into each other, in my dark room
on the right road, speeding the wrong way
my headlights blind you, before can you say
"please, this needs to stop, though i know you mean well"
and with my skeleton hand, i walk you down
and with my lying eyes, remove your gown
and lacking a heart within these ribs
i deliver the pain which passion gives
I'm not lying when I tell you that youre beautiful
but am when pretending that I'm going to save you.
I'm not going to save you.
i have nothing to offer but cold morning sheets
under which deception freezes inside of us each
"please, this needs to stop, though i know you mean well"
i have no more love for you to borrow
so tonight i sleep like there's no tomorrow
|
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3. |
Pieces
03:02
|
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|
I'm slowly, I'm exploding, I'm frozen in time,
where I can study every piece of me.
But all I see are pieces of you.
I study every piece, like letters you wrote.
100 pieces floating in air.
Futile grasps. Walk away.
I know it's time for me to earn my wings.
So I can soar. Surpass. Soar.
100 reasons I won't take flight.
|
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4. |
Soar (Sore)
05:14
|
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|
Meet me in my dreams where I am not hanging from these chains:
You, free to float, dressed in nothing but delicate wings.
Blinding beauty emanating, white light reflects
the softest skin warms like nothing ever could
Slow approach, your cleansing purity
Slow approach, starving for your goddess form
Inches away.
I reach out.
Black.
Miles away.
I watch your wings work.
I watch your wings. They work.
As you soar, I'm sore.
The higher your ascent, the larger shadow you cast.
My eyes produce no sight in the darkness.
But I can feel the irons.
Wrists, ankles.
I guess even in my dreams, I am still hanging from these chains.
|
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