1. |
Draining the Prophet Sun
03:31
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2. |
Withered
08:01
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Look at my life,
A walking contradiction.
Blinding my left hand
That my right hand may hold daggers.
My nerves are severed
Like rotting roots of a tree.
And my outside is withered:
Falling, crumbling leaves.
Crow of beauty,
Dim the sky.
Leave the rivers
To run dry.
Take my spirit,
Void of faith.
Broken mind,
Sealed by fate.
Maybe lies
Turned us cold.
Maybe truth
Rid our hope.
What if each
Passing friend
Is another
"Could have been?"
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3. |
Pathway
09:11
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Some are bound to higher purpose,
Others bound for lives forgotten.
Yet with time our feats will all
Be washed away.
Dealt a random hand
And turned loose to turn on others.
Some kill for God, some kill for love,
Some kill to pass the day.
I'm in the presence of believers
Of a perfect gold tomorrow.
They are drunk on make believe.
Their eyes are shut, and they don't care.
I am lost around these people,
This unholy matrimony.
They do not know what they are doing,
For love is dead, for love has gone.
And as these leaves fall to the ground
Its on the wings of death I wait
For winter's sun to bathe us all,
To bring the cold we love to hate.
If my world would end today,
I'd drink to freedom from this pain.
No more fallacies or fictions.
No more dreams that never came.
Life is an illusion,
Soon to be forgotten.
Life has granted nothing
But a pathway to its end.
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4. |
The Gardens of Winter
06:50
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Her lips touched the rose
And it fell from her hand.
Kissed then discarded,
Birthed but not cherished.
And withered are the branches
That once bore ripe fruit.
And dead are the eyes
Of a child, once new.
In the gardens of winter,
Life is undone.
Premature to the grave,
Like father like son.
And over is our liturgy,
And passed is our glee.
And memory is fading
Of life's christening.
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5. |
Of Oak and Ivy
06:58
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Remember when hearts were warm
And days were golden?
Remember when dirt under our skin
Was a sign of freedom?
We were lost in a world
Of oak and ivy.
The pathways we walked
Were unmarked and untainted.
When I dream of heaven,
I see you there.
We are foraging grasslands
And bathing in summer.
I don't know where we're going.
I don't know if it's golden.
But I hope when I get there
I will see you again.
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6. |
The Stag
08:46
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Under a star-lit sky
Over plains of white
A stumbling stag
Roams through the night.
A trail of crimson
Paints the snow.
Unwilling artist,
How holy you roam.
I saw myself
At the water's edge.
A pale and failing figure,
A reflection of our end.
When the world is starved
And there's nothing left to take.
A rotting foundation,
A human fate.
Under a star-lit sky
Over plains of white
A stumbling stag
Roams through the night.
A trail of crimson
Paints the snow.
Unwilling artist,
How lonely you roam.
In a grove of rot
He lays to rest
To replenish the soil,
An inheritance of death.
Unwilling artist,
Covered in snow.
Blanket of sleep,
Bring him home.
What is left here
But empty remains?
Our bodies are withered,
Our minds bent on pain.
To always remember
To preserve each scar.
Forgiveness is weakness;
Repent and run far.
I sought to be free
Of this human condition
But it touches each corner
Under this clouded sky.
The heart is a catalyst
And we are crusading blindly.
Be free of this endless cycle.
Oh stag, run free and run far.
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7. |
Lavender
05:10
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She touches so tenderly,
Like they are in love.
But it's for passing the time,
It's for loosening the mold.
The air they breath is stale;
The well they visit, dry.
Maybe tomorrow we'll pretend
That they are in love.
When the veil is lifted, and the curtain drawn,
Will I love or hate what I've become?
Is there a difference, they blur to one.
Repeating cycles til my days are done.
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8. |
Lost to a Vanishing Moon
09:29
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The mist surrounds me.
The waters are calling.
I stumble through thickets and underbrush
To cast a prayer into the sea.
My final breath worth breathing
Is a cry that might mean nothing.
My voice travels silent and lonely
Until it drowns far out of reach.
Will you come with me to die?
Will you be there by my side?
Blood is washed away by the sea
As jagged stones tear through my skin.
Spending my life playing God;
May flesh be a payment for sin.
Hailing the prophets of rapture,
Marking my head with a cross.
Will God look upon his creation
And see the son that he's lost?
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