1. |
Living Saints
02:34
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I cut my fingers on a broken picture frame
The welling up waxes and wanes. It's not fair and it hasn't been
All my friends are living saints. Been killing me for weeks
A garden weed that cracks concrete. It hasn't been fair for long
Growing up isn't moving on.
Do you miss our broken reason or the nights spent treating
Troubles and normalcy to bottles and comedies?
You forgot your necklace upstairs on purpose
It was you golden ticket scam and it always made us laugh
Do you see me as your acquaintance, your death by time, age and long
distance?
Broken picture frames
The welling up waxes and wanes. It's not fair and it hasn't been
All my friends are living saints. Been killing me for weeks
A garden weed that cracks concrete. It hasn't been fair for long
Growing up isn't moving on
All my friends are living saints
Broken still but never breaking ties
I never pictured this, disperse in fall and don't reminisce
See it's just not fair, not everyone moved on
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2. |
Dead Man
03:46
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Sound the horns and hit the crashes
End this watch and unearth this, unearth this dead man
Don't lock the gates under the arch
Head stones, the perfect drums for this stoic song and midnight march
My mind is as blank as canvas rolled
I'm here to shake the souls, the earth and prove my worth
So i check my list and run
Jack on my tongue, cheap oration
Eyes like brush fire and months of repression
I'll touchdown when, when we're fixed up
Nothing's stopping it. This dead man's bell has rung
I don't clean up so well you see
No I don't feel much like anything (anything)
When I'm home long enough for you
Will you care for me or stare at my phantom limb
I'm heading out and you're staying in tonight
Jack on my tongue, cheap oration
Eyes like brush fire and months of repression
I'll touchdown when, when we're fixed up
Nothing's stopping it. This dead man's bell has rung
Shadow boxing, no one watching
I'll be vexed for the ages, no chances left to change it
I'll touchdown when, when we're fixed up
Nothing's stopping it. This dead man's bell has rung
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3. |
Boxes
03:36
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Introspection, fabricated. Pretend to hate it, pretend to hate it all
The attention, it's not a bad thing. Pretend to hate it all
When you first walked these roads what were you so afraid of?
The thought of a different life, it sends you off the deep-end
When you scream "I'm just a normal guy"
It's painfully apparent your aim is to be deified
(your aim is to be deified)
Get yourself back home so the accolades can let you go
We seek relation and you degrade us
You don't have to be an asshole to be an artist
When we were young we'd watch our idols act above it all
Invented introverts all fighting for the sake of not
Looking like us, looking like us
Don't forget who you need, yeah we paid your way and more
(we paid your way)
Get yourself back home and remember us
We seek relation and you degrade us
You don't have to be an asshole to be an artist
Dare to what we have been all our lives
You may be outside of one box but it doesn't mean
there are no more boxes
No more boxes
When we look up at you
We seek relation and you degrade us
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Bridge Nine Records Boston, Massachusetts
Started in 1995, Bridge Nine is a label that specializes in hardcore punk, with close to 300 recordings in our catalog. Check us out and keep an eye out for updates!
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