1. |
Owed Nothing
01:37
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Split-haired, and thumb-fumbling through falling words, to find a fleeting olive branch. On Sunday when Satan came, I didn't hear your name. To cry forth from empty hands is to overestimate what you're owed to hold. Stand still, zero-lined. We collectivise and create to build our best selves, to self govern.
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2. |
Expect Nothing
02:04
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I expect nothing, but that's just too much. Wise words uttering “autonomy is expectation-less”. I expect nothing, but that's just enough. To be so separated from the strings that burn, is to surpass an ocean in one bound. Separating from “should” leaves only “now”. I just ceased the tide, be mindful.
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3. |
Construct/Critique
02:45
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If this is reality? I want out. I care not for your constructs, your constructs are ideas that kill. Concrete blooms in brutalist plumes, intimidating, in a pixelated painting/painting pixelated. Who authored this piece of shit? I care not for your critique. Your buildings are violence, I cannot abide. We must self architect, to be kind.
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4. |
Ephemeral (A Curse)
01:38
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Dirt, consume me. Ephemerality, a curse? I don't concur. I heard someone at your birthing say “Autumn's waiting”. To the dirt from whence we came, void making occupancy for new ideas, we form the roots, and rise towards new brilliance. We become the dirt that feeds all life. I heard someone at your funeral say “Spring is breaking”, welcome change.
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5. |
Grief
02:46
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I deny. I erupt. Pyroclastic loss, mantle passing, to satiate. If only I opened to offers sooner. An open house for guilt, and bargaining. I depress. Static. Igneous. Cooled by your passing. Obelisk. (I’m) ballast to be. Searching for acceptance, searching to find peace.
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6. |
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Cyclical, springlike, it binds, moving forth, with seamless edges. Like solar plexus break. Like an opening. A coil for all mortality. A root replaced. Aortic mortality check. I lie, open armed, waiting fearless to be free.
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7. |
Last Word Syndrome
07:09
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Somme marching, Snake River Canyon for last word. I form as a Great Barrier Reef for you. Some natures say that history has tendency to re-shit itself. Sleep's no substitute for peace. I wear this war in my wisdom. I live to learn to let go.
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8. |
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Consequential, consequential. No castle, house on sand builder. Pick at pieces, smile through crumbling, disarmed. Hard to rest right shitting where you fuck. Comfort zone closed to disconnecting dislike. Bearing this cross I'd hoped to shed. We make the beds we ruin; a disquiet. Consequential, consequential. Half castle, half house on hill destroyer. Rubble digging for dignified disconnect. We make the beds we ruin; a disarmed, disquiet, disconnect.
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Punch On! Bristol, UK
Bristol DIY Two Piece.
No Gods.
No Masters.
No Metronomes.
No Bassists.
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