1. |
Anechoic
02:37
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White walls say everything. It's a heartbeat, the sound of organs swimming. And every thought strikes coal on canvas. It's part of me. It's what I need. There's a bluebird with me. He sings obscenities. And the marks on the walls are rearranging, spelling out everything I hate in me. Walls around me whispering what’s soon to be, spelling out everything I hate in me. The ink bleeds into me. I feel safe. White walls say everything. It’s what I need.
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2. |
Once Bright
02:39
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I see new light in front of me. Not sure if it's in my best interest to sleep while the wires are crawling. The shadows are moving. I'm laughing. A toast to my wasted time, and those once bright eyes look so dim to mine. I hollowed out my bones and blew away, showed my roots and accepted my greys. How love has punished me with tired eyes and cells that haunt me. But I'll never know lonely, though I know that it loves me. A toast to my wasted time. Those once bright eyes look so dim to mine.
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3. |
Wake
03:17
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It's when the sun sneaks through, says to you, says to me, "What a wonderful day." But I'm barely breathing. Am I still asleep? Is this dreaming? Is misfortune in my wake? Do you believe in me? In sorry eyes and a body that aches. I wrote your name in a heart in the stone, and I told you to wait, that I'd see you at home. These bumps in the road shake me to the bone. Shake my bones. It's when the sun sneaks through, says to you, says to me, "What a wonderful day." But I'm barely breathing. Am I still asleep? Is this dreaming? Is misfortune in my wake? Do you believe in me? In sorry eyes and a body that aches.
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4. |
Solace
03:40
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It's been a while since I've been younger, and the days are getting shorter. Your eyes will be the last thing that my eyes will see. Sigh into solace, I want you to know this. Now I think about it every day, how the roots take the branches and the branches take the leaves. It's been hard not to say that soon you'll find me still and silent, cold and empty. It's been a while since I've been younger, and the days are getting shorter. Your eyes will be the last thing that my eyes will see. Saw the rain, heard my own eulogy, cut out a newspaper clip of a younger me with a one-by-one-inch photograph for memory. And I'll think of you as I let it take me. And I'll remember you even if death gets the better of me. And I'll have no regrets except that you're staying, and I'm leaving. It's been a while since I've been younger, and the days are getting shorter. Your eyes will be the last thing that my eyes will see. Sigh into solace, I want you to know this.
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