1. |
Partly Present
03:00
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i can feel you longing to shape this world with all thoughts that you've been haunting to save this girl.
you're her superhero; you're the answer that she needs.
but you're less than zero and you can't answer everything.
i can hear you calling, "end this night," with all of your belongings strapped down tight to your spaceship as you run off from this place to where you won't need answers, 'cause there are no questions out in space.
and i can hear you breathe when you can't hardly, and shaking in your knees, only present partly.
'cause there's a missing piece in this dark, distant house.
there's a fluent despair falling out of your mouth.
i want to tell you that it's easy but it's not.
it's as if we knew and then forgot.
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2. |
Bones
03:24
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So where do these bones go now?
I've been trying to figure out...
All dry and empty, situation's sickening.
So where do these bones go now,
when where they belong, they're not allowed?
All cold and pointless, a life in ruins.
Muscles warm and tender can't last in this November. And you tore my flesh to bits. Sinews dark and densely surround all that's against me, and I can't take all of this.
So where do these bones go?
And how was I supposed to know?
I thought that I was right.
I waited all along to find out I was wrong.
Too much is on my mind.
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3. |
Go Home
03:50
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no two-chord song can fix what's wrong. no note-taking can stop the shaking and all the worry. anxiety. i'm coming back, tendencies relapse.
i'm going home 'cause it's all that i am: a half-smile and useless facts. i'm going home. i need comfort or bad habits, i'm never quite sure.
it's so easy to give in to these feelings and just how i was before they picked me up: counting things, contemplating. it's all coming back. i know how to act.
i'm going home 'cause it's all that i have: acoustic songs and melodica tracks. i'm going home, how i'm supposed to be: a smart alec, sensitive and lonely.
i'm going home. you'll know where i'm at: trembling, unable to relax. find me at home, like the setting sun.
a broken wrist and an empty gun.
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4. |
Out of Line
02:45
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what am i becoming? all this time spent deconstructing. all i know is you don't know this, but i can't escape everyday.
and i do this every time. give me another chance. i may be out line, but no one else can do this dance.
what are you running from? give me answers; give me one. all i know is, you don't notice, but i can't just try all my life.
and i do this every time. give me another chance. i don't care if i'm out of line, no one else can do this dance.
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5. |
Don't Look Down
02:42
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you think i'd never want to fall in love again but it's all i want. you and me, we're not the same inside our heads. but it's all i've got to be me and to be stuck this way. it's all i am. and i cannot help but to stay the same, it's all i can.
you think i'd never want to know the truth, and you're right, but it's all there is. no matter what i do it's too hard to hide with a critical mind. it's catharsis. all i know is you know me, and i know you, simple as that. everybody they're all around. they can see it's hard to breathe. i just can't.
not everything works at the start. the ground beneath me is crumbling because i ran too far.
i ran too far this time i'm sure, but wouldn't i just as soon run more?
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6. |
Calculated Time
02:55
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it's generation y, all this calculated time, stolen ballpoint pens and cigarettes and "fine."
it's everything i thought i knew, it was me when it was you, all too often not often enough true.
give me something to say.
make me feel anything but this way.
show me somewhere to go,
and tell me something i don't know.
it's sharing these headphones, afraid of being alone, time mismanaged and roots deeply grown.
it's everything i thought had and, now, wanting it back, understatements and certain facts.
give me something to say.
make me feel anything but this way.
show me somewhere to go,
and tell me something i don't know.
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7. |
Out of Line [alternate]
02:42
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lucas britton Los Angeles, California
music for sharing and/or dancing
email me:
lucasilso@yahoo.com
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