1. |
Shadows of Cenotaph
04:24
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Hoist these Stones into the sky
Far out there across the fell
Ring the Heavens
or the Hell
because those boys,
are never coming back.
As the weight shifts, from your shoulders
to your back.
Strip the Copper from the walls,
Burn the letters that I wrote.
Because those words
aren't mine anymore,
and the weight shifts
from your back
to the floor.
There's no road I can't walk alone,
but I have lost that sense of home.
Limb by limb and crook by crook
I can't replace the things she took.
We wake because we cannot sleep,
(you'll make it by yourself)
and memories don't seem to keep.
(you need not love you need not wealth.)
I'm hanging on an extant lust,
(just take it day by day)
and growing old,
(and try to make the feeling stay)
and loosing trust.
Where have I gone?
I'm not quite sure where I feel apart.
The Root, the Rope, the Romance, or the Rock.
So I stand
In shadows of Cenotaph.
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2. |
A Fond Farewell
04:03
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Some say that the water
will not come this far in Autumn
Well I don't know
Skeletons of fledglings rest
deep inside sepulcher nests, alive?
They're not alive.
Not alive.
Paladins' have roamed around
and settled in this lonely town for pay
Well hey, hey, hey.
Backs turned to the windowpane
in isolation's guillotine, get out.
Get out.
Sweet homes are but saccharine
aspartame and lonesome din abound.
Models of convenience,
in picturesque obedience-
denial.
Balk into some cold refrain
while some young lover
falls to knees again.
Seclusion lorn a populous,
that settles for its second best-
well okay.
I love you, but I cannot stay
and sit and wish my life away,
so lay a stone and don't you bray,
things are better off this way-
a fond farewell
a fond farewell.
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3. |
Fabler
03:42
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He runs in the east,
he runs in the west.
He runs in the south-
and that's where he runs best
Gallant forthright
with silvery tongue-
he puts you at ease
as he auctions your young.
Come see the blaggard
In auction of scuff.
Hoodwink the ballot
and pare lands to sluff.
Feign disillusion
and tousel the fop.
Shrugging your shoulders
we're all for the drop.
Talk through your teeth
with agenda in blind,
as long as you're front
who cares who's behind?
This land falls beneath us
no mortar but lies
what good is a promise
to those you despise?
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4. |
Cenotaph
01:26
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I was a soldier,
of circumstance.
Yet you never knew,
my name.
And when the bullets came,
overhill.
I would never be the same.
I will never be the same.
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