1. |
Prelude
01:38
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2. |
Hyperbole
05:26
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The stands are lined with misconceptions.
Colour corrected, air brushed nonsense.
Sizing you up from the farther half of the looking glass.
Hold that pose.
Smile for the blinding lights
Lay exposed,
Savour the moment of my design.
We're going to break you down and build you up,
"'Cause baby, you're only human,
And you don't make the cut."
We pale in comparison to fantasy.
Unaware of the amateur with their fingers on the keys.
A click and a drag is all it really takes
To get us on our knees praying "fix me."
We're locked in a pitch black room with our reflection.
Something amiss.
Flawless.
Feeling for the light switch in the hope you never find it.
Hold that pose.
Smile for the blinding lights
Lay exposed,
Savour the moment of my design.
We're going to break you down and build you up,
"'Cause baby you're only human and you don't make the cut"
We pale in comparison to fantasy.
Unaware of the amateur with their fingers on the keys.
A click and a drag is all it really takes
To get us on our knees praying "fix me."
It's insane, what we give up to feel at ease.
To be comparable, despite our dignity.
Our choices, our scars,
Our name as human beings.
Wiped away as we pray:
"Please, fix me."
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3. |
Residue
04:26
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They sit safe,
Sheltered underground.
But not before the damage was done.
Removed from the setting.
Unsettled, to say the least.
Preserving traditions worth forgetting.
They sit safe.
Sheltered underground.
But, not before the damage was done.
Removed from the setting.
Unsettled, to say the least.
Preserving traditions worth forgetting.
It seeps from your skin,
It falls from your lips:
The hateful words of this recitation that you’ve inherited.
It’s the particularly nasty stain you can’t washout.
The lingering scent of a tired age you can’t live without.
They pray to god everyday
For a child to carry the family name of the father.
To live through them,
Speak through them,
As will be done to their children.
It seeps from your skin,
It falls from your lips:
The hateful words of this recitation that you’ve been living in.
You are the stagnant.
You don’t evolve.
A stubborn ghost stuck in its haunt.
It’s the particularly nasty stain you can’t washout.
The lingering scent of a tired age you can’t live without.
It’s the belief you never asked for, but passed down the family tree
And where the noose has been tied to the highest branch,
You’ll hang as the oddity.
(And don’t you worry your head if you disagree,
‘Cause in the next thirty years the same will be said about me.)
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4. |
Monophobic
04:20
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Connected from port to mouth.
From thought to thumb,
The way I’m speaking to you now.
In this convenient form of communication,
Where punctuation has been deemed aggressive.
Nothing short of your fragile ego.
Try a little less, take a load off.
You must be busy doing dick-all.
Plug in and forever be involved.
As time flies by,
It’s hard to remember silence is golden.
What once was met with warmth and open arms,
Now awaits the interruption.
Intertwined in isolation.
Hand in hand but stretching thin,
As the space between us grows.
Gather your strength - there’s a point to be made.
Give a little tap and show your support
With a gesture so meaningless,
It might as well be breathing.
I must admit, I’m a hypocrite.
Neck deep in this mess I speak against.
But if you feel like I do,
If you want to pull the plug:
Get out.
While you still can.
Sell yourself.
Prove your worth.
Down on your knees,
Beg for the validation.
As time runs dry,
I can't remember.
(Silence is golden.)
What was once was met with warmth leaves me restless,
So I'll wait for the interruption.
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5. |
(H++)
00:59
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6. |
On Love
05:13
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It’s the simple complexity.
Enticing. Elusive.
The anxious temptation.
Subtle, yet obvious.
Redefined through history from sex to neurochemistry,
A means to gather property,
The tether between our souls.
This obscurity we’re longing for.
To anyone from the outside looking in,
This has to be a work of fiction.
(Chasing after something so absurd)
The only feeling we can all understand,
Is the one we can’t explain.
Pronounced when lost.
Forgotten up close.
The missing piece to a whole,
That leaves you vulnerable.
Or the convoluted romance scribbled down in busy writing rooms
To keep the interest of our youth.
Shaping their blooming views.
Warming our hearts until they burn out.
And what remains will search far and wide
For a passion, a spark, a flame to ignite
Like the fires they see burning oh-so-bright on their favourite show,
Or the songs they hear on the radio.
Crafted, designed, performed to give you hope.
(The ultimate target demographic:
Anyone who’s ever felt alone.)
To those who profit off the human condition,
Who’ve corrupt this one beautiful sensation,
Of everything I moan about from here on end
,
You are by far the worst.
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7. |
Safety Net
06:17
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It’s everywhere, following me.
The sound of perfect pitch that drives me fucking crazy.
It’s been six years since the perk of the ear.
Still, I can’t escape.
I can’t get away.
The proof is the lack of evidence.
In every pristine measure.
Throw paint at the silhouette,
Match the colour to the number.
(Heartfelt words diluted to drab.)
Fill in the blanks.
Can you hear it?
The sincerity gasping for air,
Far beneath the gridlock.
Expression stirs under the expectation.
Buried alive and screaming out.
This is the standard,
The sickening game:
To squeeze the life out of any singing voice within reach.
But the pendulum is swinging.
It’s coming back around,
And your screams will be the first believable thing to come out of your mouth.
Though I am no different.
A different symptom of the same affliction:
Pieces stitched together to try and stay in the competition.
Throw paint at the silhouette,
Match the colour to the number.
(Heartfelt words diluted to drab.)
Fill in the blanks.
Can you hear it?
The sincerity gasping for air,
Far beneath the gridlock.
Expression stirs under the expectation.
Buried alive and screaming out.
I want to believe you.
To be in the moment,
When the words you sing ring true to me,
As if they're my own.
But I just don't know how anyone believes anything anymore.
I want to believe you.
(How can anyone believe anything?)
To be in the moment.
(How can anyone believe anything?)
How can anyone believe anything when all of it sounds so fake?
Can you hear it?
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8. |
Lacklustre
05:00
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It's hard to explain,
And it's hard to remember how, or why we got here.
A flicker of a memory.
Of another wrong to right,
That doesn't seem so bad in hindsight.
To be in error is to be human,
If the word still held its meaning.
Now that I'm here to speak my mind,
All I have to say, all I want to do:
Is just get this off my chest.
Leave it on the page.
Clear the air so I can breathe.
Free to make the next mistake.
Let me be done with this,
So I can finally move on.
Let me breathe.
Was it me sitting safe?
Sheltered underground while the world kept passing by,
More than I ever thought it could be.
Far passed the point of disbelief
It's comparable to fantasy.
To be in error is to be human,
If the word even had a meaning.
I want to believe you,
But why should I care?
Just get this off my chest.
Leave it on the page.
Clear the air so I can breathe.
Free to make the next mistake.
Let me be done with this,
So I can finally move on.
Let me breathe.
I'm tired of the anger.
Of the bitter taste it leaves.
I'm tired of this feeling that nothing is what it should be.
It's hard to explain,
And it's hard to remember how, or why we got here.
A flicker of a memory.
Of another wrong to right,
That doesn't seem so bad.
Doesn't seem so bad.
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