1. |
Battue
02:41
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The truth is I don't know one thing about honesty.
I keep my fingers crossed behind my back, so you won't see.
You may think i learnt a lo since we last met,
but really I just haven't yet.
I am no further than I was when we last spoke about
the moment we collapsed under the myriads.
And then there came the day, we knew,
would make us want to rest and stay.
I'm taking pictures from the passenger's seat,
keeping records of the turns we take.
I'd love to say, we're not the same,
but our fears only have different names.
A restless tongue inside a loud mouth
tells tales of gold - we need to cut it out.
Grown in arm's reach of a time, that is no longer there.
A distance falling apart, to the delusion we call art.
And two years from now, I will be here again
and all the words I speak - repeat, repeat, repeat.
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2. |
Of Armistice
03:56
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Every lettter is a human tale -
riots on paper, words in the way.
Whatever one had really been in need of saying,
it was never meant to rest in decay.
A truth, so heavy, it may outweigh this life
and change every man that lays sight on its lines.
A message that was meant to be a vital sign,
written in hours of armistice.
Of armistice between me
and this plain of solid white,
when my pen was torn from slumber,
and I found the courage to write.
To write, to make up for failures.
To force a decade into a single page.
To hope for chance to guide my lines,
to a destination coming-of-age.
Now I fear these thoughts, as the mountains grow,
to be lost under landslides of envelopes.
One last chance sent so far off course
as the final stage of my remorse.
Have I lost you in the chaos of these times?
On their way my letters died.
No time to wait for semaphores to show.
I should have found you long ago.
Maybe these letters just needed to be sent,
but never to arrive.
Have I lost you in the chaos of these times?
Armistice between me
and this plain of solid white,
when I learnt to bring my good intentions
safely through the night.
Maybe words we know are not enough anymore
to name all of the things that I adore.
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3. |
Bones
04:03
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I'm on the run
from the place this paper chase begun,
I took arcane trails, cover up tracks one by one.
Welcome the night,
put an end to another day i didn't risk a flight -
made specious apologies,
and I'm planing on the next ones, i swear to make it right
oh i swear i'll make this right
Ironic that I carry
such inimitable mark
and the only thing I think of
is to keep it in the dark
This map is making promises,
while I marvel at my chances.
Between next to me and far away
they reject all my advances.
I am throwing bones -
"pick me up, I've been too long on my own".
Each move so dexterously,
you won't know where to expect me,
but my plan's been overthrown -
my plan's been overthrown.
Home is no longer linked to places
now home's defined by tales and faces
In constant need of redirection orders
between coffee pots, train rides and borders.
Ironic that I carry
such inimitable mark
and the only thing I think of
is to keep it in the dark.
This map is making promises,
while I marvel at my chances.
Between next to me and far away
they reject all my advances.
There is a need, there is a need,
there is a tremor in my feet.
So many miles, so many trials,
and the urge to reconcile.
And I'll do shorthand of all my days
on valid tickets as my letter paper
and hope for you to catch the hint
and meet me here years later.
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4. |
Panica
04:19
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Where do we climb from here
with no fire alight
with the horrors of the day
and the troubles of night
(creeping up our spines)
suck the marrow out of time
and swallow it up whole
on a marathon towards
the wild nothing at the pole
(the moving mountains at our soles)
your fearlessness is what
scares you the most
its dripping off your collar
but you won't wash it off your clothes
(and outweigh it with the 'no's)
and overcome with intuition
in a crystal still
in a crystal still
seems we went astray
when we gave in to getting older
but from here the view is so panoramic
there is no need to panic
all change was for the better
your debts haven been fulfilled
(just look at what we build)
seems we went astray
when we gave in to getting older
but from here the view is so panoramic
there is no need to panic
the debts have been fulfilled
just look at what we've build
but from here the view is so panoramic
there is no need to panic
there is no need to panic
seems we went astray
when we gave in to getting older
but from here the view is so panoramic
there is no need to panic
and now in the cracks along your way
you found the truth you've never searched for
you learned to grab the future by its face
to make everything you really need
fall in its right place
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5. |
Portland, Maine
04:35
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i draw lines in the sand
just to cross them and say
'there was never a chance to make it'
the atlantic be my witness
i'm too deep in this
i'm too deep in this
ropes looped around my limbs
tied to a bag in which
i drag along behind me
the shame of generations
it obliterates my footprints
and makes it harder to advance
but as long as I keep up this play
they will never see me sweat,
oh, they will never see me sweat.
i carry the weight of attention on my shoulders
a state that once frightened me to death
now gives the comfort of meaning
and a sense of alignment
i would otherwise miss
i collect all the things,
washed up to the shore,
that were lost in the vast, open ocean.
in the hope to find that one piece,
i can hold onto.
roots anchored in the soil,
wrapped 'round the bodies of
the ones that toiled beside me
to be never forgotten,
to be covered in the sawdust
of a benchmark to the sea,
but as long as it won't leave this port
they will never know my name,
oh, they will never know my name.
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6. |
In Full Swing
04:29
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I've grown tired in full swing,
vindicating syllables I sing -
ease your muscles from the haul,
the storm and stress, the storm and stress
I cannot lift a bone,
but still they're coming after me.
I cannot speak a tone,
and still they're coming after me.
In the latest time of day,
with the whistles in my head,
and not one of them will dare to say
that I was born into your deathbed
The swarm can hear me sing,
oh, the warmth it lives in every string.
Long before I awake into a fever,
this standstill makes me a believer.
And all I am to do
is to call out loud and clear,
is to call out for you in fear
that we might not be on the same page here.
I've drained my veins in the nightlife,
every single tone rolled off my skin.
colour my bones under black lights
I will not do this on my own.
And as I've shaken off all constraint
this life might just seem charming.
For those who cannot hear,
I only ask for you to stay,
so when I awake, we're all the same
I'd like you to make me believe,
that all I have sung,
is just a metaphor
for something that I can't ignore.
And all the secrets I hold,
that we shared under oath,
are just another way
for me to say
that after all those years...
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7. |
Helicopter Youth
03:40
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Shoulders shrugged,
head is heavy,
prescious pride,
won't help me now,
no, prescious pride won't help.
If I was heroic –
my chance to save a son.
But maybe this is
where I learn to walk on.
I am meandering through the gloom,
into the cataracts,
with the wish to make
the silence visible.
But who am I to talk,
born a miracle, grown to fit,
you won't make the same mistakes
and we have learned to wait.
Young and anxious,
dumb and blind,
the truth is not in books,
the truth is what we find.
Stutter truths,
spit them out,
countless verses
in veracity.
Shoulders straight,
head is high,
prescious fever
will always prevail.
I will work this boy to death,
so he will grow to be the man,
as strong, bright, proud and optimistic
as the futures grant and then...
I watch us tie up all loose ends
of casualties we made.
They now make the strongest cord
and we have learned to wait.
In the crowns of the trees,
the safest sphere to grow.
Out of the bones of past ideas
of what a good life was, so long ago.
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8. |
Makel
03:35
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speak the truth even if it makes your voice shake
you backed up more than you could take
so most nights you try to rest your head
a droning fever gets you back
scattered in one hundred pieces that won’t match,
a delay in your back and your toes at the edge,
all engines are go, you’re the stick in the spoke
and the rumours they’re afloat
the record of your failures is written all over your face
and you can’t cover that savage grimace
no motion in your years of vice, you’re running out of alibis
speak the truth even if it makes your voice shake
these hands are nothing but a keepsake
to the prodigies that you created,
when you still know how to (...)
How you used to be, all pristine and eager,
when you were a charmer, not a sleeper.
In the days when skins didn't stretch,
and you kept your gospels on the verge.
the record of your failures is written all over your face
and you can’t cover that savage grimace
no motion in your years of vice, you’re running out of alibis
Another song just passed you by,
every single step you take seems to be improvised.
Between each interval the exact pause,
to bargain a dozen for a single cause.
In the end it's mine to choose what matters,
but I'm getting there, I'm getting better!
the record of my failures is written all over my face
and I can’t cover that savage grimace
no motion in my years of vice, I’m running out of alibis
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9. |
Travelogue
05:15
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By the second I outgrow
the real here & now a little more,
I am handling a fragile freight
not aware of its true value.
If ever I should get lost
I’ll know ten hands to reach for mine,
'cause we have seen more good in life
than i could capture in a song.
And I often tend to wonder
where other people might belong -
I often tend to wonder
where other people might belong.
We’ve become night owls,
searching for sparks of life in sleeping streets,
pushing on down towards
the last missing piece of our endeavour.
Hydrophobic to the clean slate
in a place that only feels like home.
Gone before the morning dawns -
run like a common thread through a handful of chances.
Worlds apart!
We lost our sense of time,
these eyes won't long for rest.
This always feels
like the moment when music sets in a silent room
and by chance they put on your favourite tune.
Still my thoughts are wandering,
I can't sit straight,
I can't stand still,
reinventing motion sickness.
And what haunts me, is what I feel, when I'm alone!
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10. |
Omori
04:16
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I've felt the earth shaking, but never like this
these pulses they're not tidal anymore
when the landslides powdered, fear arose from depths I never knew
this could be the end to everything we've built
like plates
we are drudges to motion
and it drags us apart
at a fast pace
slitting thriving landscapes
and in vain we craved for our our reinvention
and missed out on our last years pledges
tectonic shifting
we feel every swing, we feel every swing
before we'll even notice we'll be lost
and there will be no more boundaries and no more sideways
and every breach will tell tales of numbered days
with the slow force of a tremor that parts us
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11. |
Cloudburst~Torrent
07:05
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I need to find a place to hide
from aerials and commitments
from the dawdlers their assistans
it is a laissez-faire of our future,
a putting in and taking out,
and we’re not sharing expectations
And so I’ll
be in the vault by the time the clouds burst
and the waves stream to the four winds (ANDERS!)
Dear departed, there’s silver lining to every end:
we'll be much brighter as fragments
Wrong coordinates, false dates and times and anchors
I remember where I started
dateless rhymes and expectations,
coping with the changing weather
Intercontinental divides
between your alphabet and mine
speaking in tongues, but cipher in rhymes
and in the patter we’ll get by
So would you excuse me now for a second?
Could you do without me for a year?
I would love to live the illusion
that there is no more need to be here.
And then I would be no longer, see no longer,
surrendering my defences to you.
And then my head could be
the bare muscle that it once was,
not sharing the same hunger, not knowing your thirst
and all these clouds would finally burst
and open up some space.
So that in the end I can give my absolutions
to each and everyone who shared this ride,
and the tempest would move on
to ruin and reconstruct another soil
and trust.
In my finest clothes I'd prance around
through all the furrowed fields
of a place where no one ever dared to think
that we are all just dressed in foreign feathers.
I know, I once stated, that I'd seen it all,
but I have to admit that by now
I can tell neither true nor false
And this is what I remember:
I’ve never been more than a collection of bad habits,
(Of) good intentions and distractions.
But for a second there I got you, and made you believe
that I can see a song in everything, that I learned to draw from all capacities
But my secrets have always been carved in the woodwork,
you never got to know me and this is all truth there ever was
this all truth there ever was
so I'm letting go of all my beliefs,
may they sink well together
in the last most reliable source
in these times of changing weather.
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