1. |
||||
|
all of my friends are sick would you
believe there’s no milk or honey
blood that swells inside their brains like
clenching fists you can't be happy
no, oh no
you can’t
all of your friends are sick they won’t
confess their sins to ears like ours
maybe they can’t pronounce labels
but i bet they feel the emptiness
all around
all of our friends are sick they don’t
yearn for doctors they need warm hands
to lift them high out of shadows
cast by themselves to hurt themselves
no
please stop
everybody sick and dying
and nobody knowing silence
when we die i’ll step aside while
i am here I want to know relief
all my friends, they are sick and dying
|
||||
2. |
||||
|
stumbling fucking and wasting in a brothel
she doesn’t work yet but she just might call
on the bartend for more than her three sheets
blow her unity into the wind
now don’t tell her brother
cause i fear that he won’t do anything
a crown of amethyst he could gift her
a drunken fist that could solve anything
she wants to lose motor function now
i don’t see how we could stop her from
pouring defunct capsules down the drain
i am fine just shut the door on me
she wants to lose consciousness again
i don’t want to stop the girl from having
parties with the ego ID in
Hell she waits for
|
||||
3. |
SHIIINE!!!
02:20
|
|||
4. |
The Man Hangs Rope
02:50
|
|||
|
here we are again
and i’m learning to cope with sin
my friends are dead
so I pretend
to stand at ease
and clench my teeth
desire stars
and envy trees
but it never leaves
it always sticks
could we get back
to a primal state
dreams we have of longing
the past i hate
cause it cannot move
it casts its shadows
torching my whole view
whatever, whatever, whatever
you do
you’ll never, you’ll never, you’ll never
pull through
to sever, to sever, to sever
the truth
remember, remember
you’re only
breathing for so long
wasting your time and the world moves on
writing the same song
soap boxes crumble and feelings will dull
|
||||
5. |
Frown in Every Frame
05:26
|
|||
|
there’s some art for sale
there’s stories entailed
that could make you cry
handle clutched tight
wrongs we make right
when we drown in oil
dip the tip in
fore you sink in
to the center of their world
but it ends quick
and there’s no fix
you’re a fool for a smile
frown in every frame
in the window pane
let’s profit off pain
breaking down the door
thirsting for the gore
and we’ll call her whore
i can’t watch this anymore
pictures show me too much
i won’t look anymore
at the pictures
no more pictures
at the bleeding
no more bleeding
at the screaming
no more screaming
no more screaming anymore
you always were painted softly
crying the whole time
you always were painted softly
dying this whole time
|
||||
6. |
He Was a Killer
05:21
|
|||
|
he made himself stand out
amongst the rest
with piercing eyes and linens
of the best
a man of god and jesus
did attest
the throne for which he’s bound
is success
but he was a killer
and he’d stop at nothing less
than to taste the blood of women
once he’d torn through their dress
but he was a fiend
the one who destroyed it all
she placed herself outside
in distress
the cry for devoutness
limerence
to lie for escort
stupid mess
the pain that she will not
second guess
but she was a killer
and she’d stop at nothing less
than to taste the blood of kinship
once she’d torn through our flesh
but she was a fiend
the one who destroyed it all
they will find you
if you let them
take our kin to
Hell again
|
||||
7. |
...dull
01:48
|
|||
8. |
Okay Now What
04:37
|
|||
|
forceful mess we have seen
acts of desperation that gleam
we don’t know why we say these things
we can’t find insight to our dreams
cast out from the places
we call home
so
where do we go
now that we’re old
can we grow old
now
after the fold
when you’re in distress should you lean
on my rusted shoulder, never clean
i don’t know why you’ve done these things
i can’t find insight to your dreams
you can find in me
a home
so
where do we go
now that we’re old
can we grow old
now
after the fold
|
||||
Saint Syzygy Athens, Georgia
recording project of ian hemerlein
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