1. |
Cable Cars
05:25
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backlash, cutting your reasons for breathing
your thoughts and their meaning...
rinse and repeat 'till it's gone.
becoming an heir to indifference
to settle what plagues your clouded mind.
premeditated,
but this was not meant to happen.
one by one,
we've been punctured and carried
close to a hungry void.
dragged ashore far from home.
we found comfort
in a place of instability,
meandering down a lonely path,
treasured landmarks turned to dust.
growing dim in the distance,
and the whispers turn to rumbles.
slowing down, as we make our descent.
it was trial by fire,
and the voice between the flames
said we could not live in separation forever.
like cable cars
sending out passengers,
the blue signals fade away...
and now the ink is smudged
in the chapter before us.
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2. |
The Legend
08:21
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seeing death as the end of life…
like seeing the horizon
as the end of the ocean.
“close my eyes and watch it grow”
the only sound… the turning of the masses.
drowned in a mirror, deathless and lithe.
waiting for coffins, helpless, alive!
…signals break the surface,
but a much larger process is in progress…
…I wait anxiously for its arrival.
“arms folded,
watches his cumbrous world eclipse
inane worlds of wind and cloud”
as the mind works to recreate
what the senses have inscribed,
there’s a translation error,
and only a fraction of truth is exhumed.
for what, is made this fated ride?
for whom, do these hands starve and clench?
to be small in the face of true majesty,
yet stand tall in the midst of honest fear…
a battle older than the sun.
a simple choice, but the battle’s never won.
in strangulative certainty,
I’ve become no more than a clever forgery.
my faith begins to crumble…
is there value in my patience?
these eyes ain’t opposed to blue skies,
but I’ll allot my time
for a thousand hours
to dream of sleep at night.
the beauty of wonder
in a wanderlust soul,
searching for a way to feel real…
to be desolate
and shine at the same time.
crimson giants gather at last light,
awestruck at an ancient feeling
that illuminates the sky
from just above the horizon.
the hawk spreads its wings,
ready to fly into the night…
faith in one’s plans only truly tested
with the blackest horizon ahead
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3. |
402
06:21
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house to myself on a Sunday morning,
watching the sun pour in through every
window.
climb to the roof, and I lay face up
watching the clouds crawl by, as I close my
eyes.
it takes me back to a different time,
miss those younger days, when the world
was mine.
as I close my eyes…
and I’m home
homesick
the endless days I spent in the backwoods
finding out about the world,
leaves crunch under my feet.
that humid air would go right through my
bones
taking in as much as I could,
taking everything for granted.
I once believed that a boy could fly.
he could graze across the treetops,
over fifty feet high.
he’d find a way to feel like he belonged,
feel like he could take a punch,
feel like he was strong.
I’m finished with trying to get back
what I’ll never have again.
the years I spent mourning the past
and missing the moment.
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4. |
Steam
04:08
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I dream her,
even when I’m not asleep.
but even in my dreams, she ain’t mine…
I just follow her lead.
she says she loves me?
I don’t know what that means…
what the hell can I give to her,
what does she want from me?
I’ll give her my soul,
let her feed off my steam.
I’d cross seven state lines in the middle of the
night
just to make her scream.
I wanna know her insides,
wanna kiss her ‘till we’re outta breath.
she’s my dream,
and maybe that’s all that she is
ghost…
ghost a-walkin’…
I’m afraid of owning her soul,
and crushing it to dust.
but I’m afraid of owning nothing of her
at all.
well, I’m afraid…
I’m afraid that my love is just hate, or apathy,
or desperation in disguise
doubt is an icy glaze on my heart.
treelines converge on the horizon,
leading us someplace we just can’t see.
tangled lengths of lightning-stricken hair
through my fingers,
keeping me from sleep…
do I cut loose
and let my pride show,
or do I hold back like a corpse?
I wanna know just how much she cares…
I want her to love me more than she can bear!
ghost!
ghost a-walkin’!
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5. |
First Flight
07:44
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every night, a savage, with no concept of
ordered society (despicable)
appears in my sleep, to tell me lies about inner
peace. (so insulting)
its words still ring in my ears (an irritation)
as I clench my jaw,
and curse its name through my teeth
at the breakfast table.
nothing sacred should roam free…
what rest may I afford myself? (erase it)
so much to accomplish (the hunt),
so little time…
so I MUST cut you out from underneath this
skin…
he finds himself tied down to his lab,
hell bent on genocidal manufacture.
but in the back of his mind, an impure
presence…
a light, forcing him into a daze of distraction.
so he sets out to destroy this creature,
plaguing his purpose with its pleas.
and into the snowy woods he goes
to kill what he doesn’t know,
as the creature’s message slowly slips through
his gears…
peace…
peace within the beast…
treetops sleep (in snow)
birds alight (their boughs)
silence stands (absolute)
dawn’s first light (through haze)
trees awake (in fright)
birds sound cries (of alarm)
silence breaks (pressure builds)
dawn’s first light; an arrow flies!
the machine pursues the beast.
all that’s living flees in haste.
the trees contort in convex
to evade this monstrous chase.
(ever closer)
slowly, connected.
the forest slips away…
“my metal skeleton was built for so much
more
but those bones, how they haunt me…
withered with a thousand years of love lost
and loneliness,
yet I remain the shadow? I must cut you out…”
“what vicious fate, what bitter fortune, to have
left me so exposed,
that in the midst of my pursuit, I’ve fallen,
raptured in repose.
this infernal heart breeds my weakness; I’ve
been stunted by desire.
I must strangle all these sentiments, and feed
them to the fire…”
(red cavern’s sun, it chills the air)
“my drive to banish all my feelings is now
tainted by doubt
and any sense of what I’m meant for is now
twisted inside out
so I’ll let my fear define me! I might not find
another path!
if I exile my emotions… maybe I’ll be whole at
last.”
red cavern’s sun, it chills the air,
as he falters in his precious creed
and charges forth in churning madness,
heedless of his mistakes.
his rage has catalyzed catastrophe,
and the mountain begins to quake.
and as he turns to the crescendo of the
avalanche,
a glimpse of genesis that yields him no relief,
he realizes he has wrought his own destruction
and finally understands the nature of his grief…
and reaches out to the beast.
are we flying?
or are we falling…
bodies meld
souls rejoin
wings emerge
a final transformation
first flight
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6. |
Cold In Atlantis
06:31
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you’ll never know the sweet pain of devotion.
you’ll never find the ghosts and glory
in an endless sea of clocks.
or any of a million shrines to suffering you’ve
never built,
the fortresses you’ll never remember…
you’ll dig your grave six feet under the stars,
sinking deep in the soil,
your eyes hollowed and grey.
and the warm lips that would grace your
forehead at night,
the calloused hands and feet, and lungs
that bore your agonies…
these senseless echoes cast into a dead space
are the memories that could’ve been your
brightest star.
staple your eyelids,
and forget what it means to be blind.
ghosts and glory wait behind thinnest glass,
but your lifeless hands idle fireside.
so this is your last chance
to take a guiding hand
and join us in the flames.
(we’ll show you what you’re missing)
you’re the fading edges of a photograph;
a broken set of headphones, resigned to the
floor;
you’re slowly grinding along a dead-end
highway,
smoke billowing from your blackened throat…
and I have spent far too much time
writhing between your stripped gears
and choking on your leaking exhaust.
you’re a door with deadbolt in place,
but I’ve already jumped out the window.
strewn roadside in paper scraps
melting in ancient tapedecks
floating in hazy clouds
out of cigarettes
held between desert-dry lips
reaching for departed peals of laughter
glimpsing our smiles, wide as the sun…
you won’t find my body in the dirt,
or lost in the sky,
as sirens pursue
with the most cherished anthems
you’ll never remember.
it’s a canvas you’ll never paint,
a stage you’ll never own…
you chose a weak and hollow lie
to call your home.
ghosts and glory wait behind thinnest glass,
but your lifeless hands idle fireside.
so this is your last chance
to take our guiding hands
and join us in the flames.
(we’ll show you what you’re missing)
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Enso Anima Sacramento, California
Black is the Enso, the cycle of energy connecting all things. Red is Anima, a soul within the cycle.
Progressive post-hardcore band from Sacramento. You are not alone.
linktr.ee/ensoanima
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