1. |
bury my promises...
03:48
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I promised myself
By this age, I’d be someone
Or at least, someone else
Not on stage, but on top of
The fuzz in my brain,
It all seems so awful frightening
I’ve got nothing to lose
But loose screws that could use some tending to
I can’t work a job if I’m not stable
I tried 9-5 and I’m not able
The real world is using me
I’m at war with myself and I’m losing
So I’ll Bury my words and my promises
For the day that I learn to be confident
I’m not dying yet
There’s a hole in my heart,
Where I used to bleed
Since we started growing apart,
A part of me retreats Inside,
You decide,
Is there a burnout or a burning light
In me?
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2. |
collateral damage
03:56
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Stuck in the motions
I am motionless
Your deep devotion
i’m still getting used to it
With pen and paper
Rewrite my Broken promises
So when I lose you later
Would I still be innocent
You came along
Told me I’m worth something
You sang me songs
To patch my peeling skin
Detonated all the traps I set
Wrote my name down
So I don’t forget
I can’t reciprocate what I never learned
And what I told myself I don’t deserve
You taught me silent love
Her love is too involved
You had broken parents
Was I collateral damage
It’s in the street signs
In movies and TVs
Under lamplights, in books,
In food I eat
Can’t seem to shake off what’s been done to me
I can’t reciprocate what I never learned and what I’ve told myself i don’t deserve
You taught me silent love
Her love is too involved
You had broken parents
Was I collateral damage
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3. |
midnight bus to camden
04:55
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I dont want to waste time,
Underestimating beauty of rivers that are divine
Am I blind or is my vision filled with pride
For When God asked if he could move me, I just let him pass me by
No more fuss and no more fuse, let’s control what we let loose
Our generation's hopeless
I bang my head against the wall,
To forget what I’ve been through
Over and over
Somewhere our truth is hidden,
in the front sleeve of a Whitman, on a midnight bus to camden
I am candid, I am
I am drinking and I’m eating
Living off the land of fathers I don’t know
And my soul seems to retreat into the absence it’s been fed, searching for presence and wondering where it went
no more fuss and no more fuse, let’s control what we let loose
no more rhythm, no more blues, no more punk rock 'siouxsie sioux's,
no more Brian, no more Bruce, no more crying without use
Our generation's hopeless, that's the choice we had to choose
I bang my head against the wall,
To forget what I’ve been through
Over and over
Somewhere my truth is written,
in the front sleeve of a Whitman, on a midnight bus to camden
I am branded in reclamation, how can we forge a nation from a hopeless generation
I am stranded but at least, I am finally finding peace in modern transportation
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4. |
running late
04:07
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let me be your wave
the coldest wind,
splash of water
on the freckles of your face
a movement without motion
i’m working on my time,
thinking less and moving past
no ‘fucked it ups’ this time by promising too much, too fast
i’m running late
and you don’t have to wait
because if you know me well,
you won’t let it get you bent
it’s not “the words I use” but what they represent
i can’t forgive you if i can’t forgive myself
i swear i will outlive you, the guilt that follows me around
when i was 16, i thought i’d ride the p.a.t.c.o. out
To see where it would lead,
But I missed the train, they closed the gates
i’m running late
and you don’t have to wait
because if you know me well,
you won’t let it get you bent
it’s not the time I lose but how my life is spent
i’m running late but i can’t relate
to the pressures of our age,
to be punctual by day but hide my inner rage
and if it’s not okay, i still won’t stop this great release,
through stalling with an empathy for anything
that breathes
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