data dump
'movie minded culture'
this is a movie-minded culture where we're drugged to believe that its
always a happy ending. but instead as the credits roll and the lights come
back on, we're all left begging for a taste of something more. something
definite, something solid beneath our feet as we're frozen in the aisles;
begging for the walk back to our cars. we swear on love and close our eyes.
back home we find the lights dim and our bodies lying on the bathroom floor.
staring at the white walls as if we were trying to re-animate the dead. or
perhaps ourselves. measures of purpose come screaming from our hearts, but
the sweet discourse stops dead on the tips of our tongues. our taste for
better days reverses itself and gets buried in our lungs. we all deserve a
happy ending.what's the score anyways? who's winning? is it me or you in this
nightmare for two? our prying eyes are begging eachother for an ending. a
midsummer's
suicide. but we both know i can't pull a trigger and you can't stomach
cyanide. so lets tap our veins and see if we can't bleed away this disease.
lets write our scripts in a red of a different sort.
'i really wish i had a name for this one'
if i were to write you a letter.. it would go a little something like this.
my dearest love:
my hands are stained in the most earnest red. i've tattooed this betrayal
like a prayer on my lips. ghosts of what once was keep me awake, wide-eyed
and screaming at the walls. there is no rest for those who've sold
themselves. mark the graves of a thousand traitors and know we hold no less
sin than them. they know not what they do. blow out the candle and kiss me
goodnight.
oh, but we knew my love, with eyes wide shut we felt for a pulse with a
finger on the trigger. we let fly with the passion and drowned ourselves in
apathy. careful. lets not wake the neighbors. haven't we created enough
corpses tonight? cry havoc, let slip the dogs of war. baby we'll make the
angels weep and the saints gasp for air.
confess with the tongue of a saint the depths of this blasphemy. don't mind
the cadaver in the corner; he's just the boy with the brightest lies. i
never said no one would get hurt. but take me up and take me in, we'll never
feel like this again. take me up and take me in, we'll never feel again.
'cleanliness is next to'
turn the handle. let the warm water begin to wash the dirt and sin of today
away. breathe it in. this is the closest to clean that you will ever get.
halfway to drowning, choking on the rising air and the warmth that'll claim
us both. open your eyes. watch your impurities go spinning... down the drain.
we're scraping our skin with the softest of ivory, cleansing ourselves with
the broken wings of doves. rubbing so feverishly, hoping so admirably, that
things will change. but only sandpaper will free us from treasons so deeply
ingrained. we'll have to bleed away this betrayal if we ever want to... see
again.it's time... time to hide our attempts at redemption, in these poignant
prescribed perfumes. scents to hide our tragedy, drug others to thinking...
we are pure. but we'll be so soft; shining in sunlight yet glowing in our
opulence. wash it down, wash it down... out of sight, out of mind.
ssssssssssstop.
we're left with prayers from every pore... but its acid rain and its carving
cuts into our skin. our last stand. the last bit of shadow before we step
into their bright lights.
we're greeted by our faces in the mirror. ripples dampen the youngest of
faces. we know not what we do. but it's show time once more as we put on our
costumes and exit stage right. this is our best of shows, our grandest of
spectacles, brightest of lies. the curtain lifts and it all starts once again.
'playing with fire'
do you see the light we're looking in on? the shades of red it reflects upon
our burning eyes? of course you can't. of course i can't. for whatever
perceivable passion we find in the flames that flicker before us, we cannot
touch. for fear of burning all that which we know and love. even if we exist
as a beacon in this goddamn darkened street, it is a light best held deep
within our chests. because left unchecked it would consume our world. it
would burn the wool over our eyes. and we'd watch in wonderful clarity as
human forms immolate. as lives end as stories do, as lies kill like bullets
do, and as all for one one for all turns into all for us and no one else.
and the faces on the charred cadavers may be all too-familiar.
this is a movie-minded culture where we're drugged to believe that its
always a happy ending. but instead as the credits roll and the lights come
back on, we're all left begging for a taste of something more. something
definite, something solid beneath our feet as we're frozen in the aisles;
begging for the walk back to our cars. we swear on love and close our eyes.
back home we find the lights dim and our bodies lying on the bathroom floor.
staring at the white walls as if we were trying to re-animate the dead. or
perhaps ourselves. measures of purpose come screaming from our hearts, but
the sweet discourse stops dead on the tips of our tongues. our taste for
better days reverses itself and gets buried in our lungs. we all deserve a
happy ending.what's the score anyways? who's winning? is it me or you in this
nightmare for two? our prying eyes are begging eachother for an ending. a
midsummer's
suicide. but we both know i can't pull a trigger and you can't stomach
cyanide. so lets tap our veins and see if we can't bleed away this disease.
lets write our scripts in a red of a different sort.
'i really wish i had a name for this one'
if i were to write you a letter.. it would go a little something like this.
my dearest love:
my hands are stained in the most earnest red. i've tattooed this betrayal
like a prayer on my lips. ghosts of what once was keep me awake, wide-eyed
and screaming at the walls. there is no rest for those who've sold
themselves. mark the graves of a thousand traitors and know we hold no less
sin than them. they know not what they do. blow out the candle and kiss me
goodnight.
oh, but we knew my love, with eyes wide shut we felt for a pulse with a
finger on the trigger. we let fly with the passion and drowned ourselves in
apathy. careful. lets not wake the neighbors. haven't we created enough
corpses tonight? cry havoc, let slip the dogs of war. baby we'll make the
angels weep and the saints gasp for air.
confess with the tongue of a saint the depths of this blasphemy. don't mind
the cadaver in the corner; he's just the boy with the brightest lies. i
never said no one would get hurt. but take me up and take me in, we'll never
feel like this again. take me up and take me in, we'll never feel again.
'cleanliness is next to'
turn the handle. let the warm water begin to wash the dirt and sin of today
away. breathe it in. this is the closest to clean that you will ever get.
halfway to drowning, choking on the rising air and the warmth that'll claim
us both. open your eyes. watch your impurities go spinning... down the drain.
we're scraping our skin with the softest of ivory, cleansing ourselves with
the broken wings of doves. rubbing so feverishly, hoping so admirably, that
things will change. but only sandpaper will free us from treasons so deeply
ingrained. we'll have to bleed away this betrayal if we ever want to... see
again.it's time... time to hide our attempts at redemption, in these poignant
prescribed perfumes. scents to hide our tragedy, drug others to thinking...
we are pure. but we'll be so soft; shining in sunlight yet glowing in our
opulence. wash it down, wash it down... out of sight, out of mind.
ssssssssssstop.
we're left with prayers from every pore... but its acid rain and its carving
cuts into our skin. our last stand. the last bit of shadow before we step
into their bright lights.
we're greeted by our faces in the mirror. ripples dampen the youngest of
faces. we know not what we do. but it's show time once more as we put on our
costumes and exit stage right. this is our best of shows, our grandest of
spectacles, brightest of lies. the curtain lifts and it all starts once again.
'playing with fire'
do you see the light we're looking in on? the shades of red it reflects upon
our burning eyes? of course you can't. of course i can't. for whatever
perceivable passion we find in the flames that flicker before us, we cannot
touch. for fear of burning all that which we know and love. even if we exist
as a beacon in this goddamn darkened street, it is a light best held deep
within our chests. because left unchecked it would consume our world. it
would burn the wool over our eyes. and we'd watch in wonderful clarity as
human forms immolate. as lives end as stories do, as lies kill like bullets
do, and as all for one one for all turns into all for us and no one else.
and the faces on the charred cadavers may be all too-familiar.