1. |
The Descent
02:47
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In a landscape to treacherous to navigate,
there's an open invitation to the abyss,
you can come, bring all your friends.
Because there's somewhere to go,
when the pace gets too slow,
and the boredom that breaks us,
is an ache in our bones.
Oh where do we go,
with this ache in our bones?
Oh where do we go,
with this ache in our bones?
To the landscape to treacherous to navigate,
and open invitation to the abyss,
you can come, bring all your friends.
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2. |
Work
01:37
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They told us we were great
That we could be anything
Like a place was guaranteed
And talent’s irrelevant.
Well you’ll never be an astronaut
And i’ll never make great art.
That’s not even half of it,
That’s just where it starts
Tonight i’ll stretch a canvas,
Paint a picture of deceit
Of growing old in retail jobs
And dying on our feet.
No future
No hope
No future.
There’s a door that doesn’t open
There’s a place that we can’t go
‘Cause promises were broken
And futures they were sold.
The rats who sank this ship
Had properties off shore
You can bet when we resurface
They’ll be coming back for more.
When we’re old and we are sick
And can’t get out of bed
We’ll work forty hour weeks
And wish that we were dead
And if death should finally come
To grant us final sleep
We’d turn over in our graves
As an alarm begins to beep.
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3. |
Nosebleed
04:01
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It's a look across a room,
a scent of shame.
Sweetheart, your nose is bleeding again.
Where've you been?"
Wipe it away.
Wipe it away.
We've seen the blood on your hands,
but that's what you wanted, isn't it?
If you're gonna come round,
and lean out the window,
at least buy your own fucking cigarettes,
and if you're gonna come 'round,
and drink all my wine,
at least spend the night.
At least spend the time.
But if it brings you pleasure,
to bring me pain,
just for good measure,
You can do it again.
And if it gets you hot,
to be so cold,
consider it done,
consider me told.
If you're going to go out and dance like that,
at least dance with me,
and if you're going to go out, and kiss other guys,
don't let me see.
I don't want to see.
But if it brings you pleasure,
to bring me pain,
just for good measure,
You can do it again.
And if it gets you hot,
to be so cold,
consider it done,
consider me told.
Edge of the bed,
laptop-lit,
you look washed in chemicals,
and I feel like a prick.
As I dwell in these spaces,
between stupid things I've said,
I finally realised,
you were never mine to possess.
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4. |
Broken Glass Blues
02:52
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Drain me of my blood,
strip me of my skin,
peel the muscle from my bones,
this skeleton's held up on strings.
I've been having conversations,
with monsters under beds,
they come to me on sundays,
and speak to me of death.
And I've been trying to take control,
of a beast that's underneath,
that never shows it's throat,
it only shows it's teeth.
My friends say I've been distant,
I know I've been far away,
it seems that I've gone quiet,
overthinking what I say.
I'm not smiling, its just a mask.
I'm no diamond, I'm just broken glass.
Punch me in the throat,
kick me in the teeth,
drag me to the water,
hold me underneath,
I've been hiding in plain sight,
and putting on a show,
but dwelling on my actions,
when the curtains close.
I'm no diamond, I'm just broken glass.
So I'll put on a show,
of false bravado,
the emperor's clothes,
are nothing at all,
and I know,
I'm nothing at all.
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5. |
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Kitchen floor conversations,
at 5am with a head full of poison.
This is me hoping, hoping you wont remember,
and you hoping I wont forget,
this is not "I'm sorry", this is "I feel sorry for you"
'cause I've found a god, a god in my glass
for the devil in my head.
Kitchen floor conversations,
5 am with a head full of poison.
Rough Sex and tough texts,
I wish I'd never shared The Cure with you,
'cause we'd kiss cyanide,
and we made this bed on train tracks.
They say "Love like you've never been hurt",
why do we hurt like we've never been loved?
Well don't worry,
'cause I've found inner-peace.
In Pieces.
Kitchen Floor Conversations,
5 am with a head full of poison.
It's 5am, why's my head filled with poison?
Blindsided by hindsight,
a heartsick sick six months,
and you were always talking about
you paying the bills, and me not paying attention
but you knew I was broke when you met me.
You're still snapped cigarettes in the morning,
a stick in my spokes, like smoke in my eyes.
But don't worry,
'cause I've found absolution.
In absolute self destruction.
Kitchen Floor Conversations,
5am with a head full of poison,
its 6am why's my head filled with poison?
You wrote me a song,
so I wrote you a song.
You wrote me a song,
So I wrote you a song.
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