we're the product of fallen idealism. wasn't a concious decision. is that the way that you would pave your foundation? over every imperfect person? every thought and place? that bile taste in your mouth now has been building for ages. there's a death in the air. a rank-and-defile, an empty altar. a volatile lesson we learned: those suicide kings and queens couldn't reign past their own views (and they won't leave it up to you.) when the dams are torn, the damned are born again.
Track Name: foggy ave.
it's gonna be a long walk home. there's a constant, bitter cold and nowhere to go i haven't been before. i keep thinking "i hope this fog stays forever over everything." i wanna hide from the inside and take the night in slow stride. and i'll wait for you to come along the avenue. there's a street light night-life. spite for two. these decisions made are decisions ruining every little last piece of self esteem. it's gonna be a long walk home. there's a pounding in my skull. and too many shows where i don't know a soul but i keep thinking "i hope this fog fades away so i can think again."
Track Name: saboteurs
me and my best friends started a little band. bottled some pent up hate. drank some tall cans and plotted our plan for revenge:
to bite feeding hands if only for the taste of it. and i don't feel helpless now anymore. have you found a tool that fits you to sabotage the view that nothing is meant for you? feeling aimless. seething, restless. small town wishing. a city escapist.