1. |
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And every moment I lose without you, fighting interference between my mind and the tip of my tongue, I am lost. Tripping over my words, over insanity, racking my every thought, drowning this conviction behind an apathetic mask. A numberless cigarette lit twixt my fingers, burning like the fire that beauty held in your eyes, piercing me like a conscience, shattering the glass of memory reflecting my imperfections, smoldering bridges sinking behind me in hopes for a second chance. So embrace me, dreams, for you are mine; awake to a whirlwind staying swift through my fingers, my dream of you was all I had. So give me a heart where I can't feel, for all I need in my life is that which eludes me, that which I let get away, remaining a haunting thought of what could have been.
Can you feel my beating heart? Buried beneath the backyard- the place we used to live, where we stood on our own. We were rooted in this home. Where we exhaled our last breath and watched the summer fade to blackness.
We held our hands tight and spoke softly of the distance, as to which our hearts were to lie. And the night kissed us softly on the cheek and we each, the trees bowed before our knees as to exact the point of growing fond of the memories we would never let die.
Can you feel my beating heart? Buried beneath the backyard- the place we used to live, where we stood on our own. We were rooted in this home. Where we exhaled our last breath and watched the summer fade to blackness.
I will let you go if you want me to.
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2. |
Dying Leaves
02:20
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Hands held above our heads, held out as far as they can stretch. I'm trying to hold on to clouds that are always outside my reach. I guess you didn't notice- I fade with the setting sun. I'm no more alive than the empty home where I grew up.
I find my life is constantly swirling, cliche as it sounds, like leaves in the wind- twirling in unpredictable patterns until the wind slows down and stops again. But leaves crumble under foot and are commonly left to die in the sun- I find myself begging for drops of rain to grace me but I realize that there are none.
Hands held above our heads, held out as far as they can stretch. I'm trying to hold on to clouds that are always outside my reach. I guess you didn't notice- I fade with the setting sun. I'm no more alive than the empty home where I grew up.
And when we planted that tree in your front yard, I remember thinking, "I wish I was still young." I guess you didn't notice- I fade with the setting sun.
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3. |
City Orchards
03:24
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Each night, I decorate the walls of my room with sketches of a city I've never seen. (I've held the same air in my lungs for the past seventeen years- I think it's time for a fresh breath, but only as time will allow. Do you think that you can trick time into thinking that it never passed? Do you really think each new memory can just replace the last?)
I pay attention to the finer details, like the crooked and tired buildings that cast shadows over lonely playgrounds and the dim lamp posts lighting the road like an infinite set of sad eyes. When it's time to sleep, I lay on my back and stare at my makeshift night sky. I always forget the stars. And each morning, when I wake, I always wake up alone. So I erase my walls and start again. Do I dare disturb the universe?
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4. |
Instrumental
01:57
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