1. |
Documents II
03:20
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mother spider guards my door
with a wilted arm, a cigarette
we won’t be leaving here again
we never will be laid to rest
oh my
oh yes
our night
in stead
take another winding way
and take another pill for night
write a little prayer for our prey
and pick us up and make us right
and in a way
we stay the same
but our lives lead
and pick us up
and in a way
we stay the same
but our lives lead
and pick us back
to earth
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2. |
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3. |
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I
i’m looking up
and i don’t see anything
the smell of cold
a map of our senses
and in a way
i’m a saul
but never a paul
there are ghosts who inhabit our catacombs
in a way
i’m a saint
with no light
to blind me
i know the shape is harmless
i’m looking up
and i don’t see anyone
a smell of home
a trace of your finger
and in a way
i’m a saul
but never a paul
there are ghosts who inhabit into
to damascus,
the minerals
but never the dust on our feet
to dream, or to believe
in a way, i remain
the ghosts that i’ve named
but the shape
remains the same
i’d adore thee
but i don’t even know your name
i’d adorn me
but i don’t even know who i am
II
you are here - an ancient evil
i can feel you running through my veins
i can feel you running through my veins
into my heart
and i have known your fingers
i can feel your shackles on my spines
i can feel you wrap around my veins
into my heart
III
you were young,
and i was foolish to think
that our time would be
any different than the last
but i've known
that we are shown
and sent our way
i was high
and you were too far to reach
and in time we'd say
we are different from the last
though i've known
that we are shown
send a voicemail, drop a line
make a promise for a promise
or a hand held in our time
though i've known
that we are shown
and sent our way
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4. |
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particle dust
in the light
all the arms
of a morning
picture the lines
yours and mine
in the black
and the space
between
and now
you are here
with me
and in the air
there is a melody
singing for me
fresh from the sheets
and the space in between
there is a melody
singing for me
filled in the lines
of what you used to be
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5. |
Sugar & Introspection
02:49
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i have no arms that would reach in a way
and i have no hands that would shapeth the clay
but i know that there’s something
that you’re just about to say
it’s as though there’s nothing left
to say
i have no arms that were cut from the cloth
and i know the lines that would break in your arms
but i know that there’s something
and it’s just beyond my worth
it’s as though there’s nothing left
to say
sugar and introspection
it's all we are
sugar and introspection
all we are
is here
i have no arms that would reach in a way
and i have no hands that would shapeth the clay
but i know that there’s something
and you're just beyond my reach
still, i hope there's something left
for me
i hope that there's something left
for me
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WINDMILLS Champaign, Illinois
someone buried a melody in this unspeakable racket. someone buried an unspeakable racket in this melody.
m.y. + n.g. + n.y.= windmills
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