1. |
Oh, Simone
03:50
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|
painfully awake
conscious
I can do whatever I please
But i'm guilty, i've wasted that privilege
There's no sleeping while awake
the moon leaves the sky alone
and the stars won't stay for anyone's song
who am i to attempt anything at all
to try and save myself
hell is real and i've seen it
shatter my teeth
make me bleed
show me pain
for all these petty attempts
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2. |
idealist
03:30
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oh Arthur. Arthur! we didn't listen, did we?
Oh Arthur, Arthur we'll learn
we will bite the hand that feeds
so that with pride, we can learn to feed ourselves
like a child, learning to swim
like an infant, learning to walk
Oh Barry, You died in vain
There is still crimson dripping like tears from blunt teeth
flesh is still a garment
and ugly traditions, are still upheld
Barry, Barry I'm sorry
Someday you'll be seen as a hero
and every creature will be free of torment, cages, and abuse
We have spent far too long studying our imperfections
and we have spent far too long preoccupied with imaginary precept
Oh Emma, Emma
You went to prison for what?
a culture that is self destructive
Oh Emma, We'll fix this, we can fix this, I swear
We can be everything they aren't
we can be everything they fear
and the roads, and buildings, will shatter
New prophets, of transcendentalism, and existentialism will be born
in us all
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3. |
Poison
03:14
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|
Our future's not for us anymore
we gave it up to everyone else
with sage in the air
and blood in our eyes
we drank poison for it's taste
our teeth will begin to fall out now
from all the lies that we have told
and without wanting to, or caring to, we'll make no apologies
we'll lie awake
lie awake
lie awake
and think of all the choices we've made
we should shut our eyes more
but that's not for us to decide
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4. |
100 steps to Allenville
05:12
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a spirit haunts this town
in the dim lit streets that sleepers forgot
with a knife in it's heart and a needle in it's arm
there's a fog in the air, there's a voice in my head
there's a fog in the air, there's lies in my head
a poets october will go unnoticed
a freezing wind will blow no pine
and the sea is not cold, or dark enough to sing a proper solitude song
a spirit haunts this town
in the dim lit streets that sleepers forgot
with a knife in it's heart and a needle in it's arm
there's a witch in those hills there's fear in my blood
there's a with in those hills there's hate in my blood
winters breath will bring no songs
voices don't sing madrigals here
people don't pray the way they used to
people don't mourn the way they used to
with a knife in it's heart, and a needle in it's arm, this town will rip me limb from limb
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corrvus Simi Valley, California
Booking, questions, hate mail etc: email or 805 624 9053
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