1. |
Treading Over Landscapes
02:59
|
|||
|
While I was sleeping in my grave,
I put us all to shame, but now I'm walkin' out.
It seems my laws weren't written in stone,
But scratched on the back of my hand.
And never again will I give into you,
Because now I know who I am.
Through looking glass eyes,
I'll paint myself red,
For the truth belongs to God.
|
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2. |
Polar Opposite Products
02:05
|
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|
You speak but you don't live,
You love what doesn't exist.
Don't bury the preacher of the faithful.
You build monuments to the incomplete,
And bow down to transparent idols.
Your tongue, it speaks in silence.
And screams of nonexistence.
|
||||
3. |
No Mercy For Gerald Hamm
04:35
|
|||
|
Oh play your music and shout away your days,
But who's gonna hear it?
Our voices sound like battlefields,
And our instruments like gunshots sing.
Blank gaze. Wide eyed.
With our hearts on our sleeves,
And our temporary bravery.
Toy soldier.
We swallow nations whole,
And we gnash our teeth.
Nevermind the consequence because our forked tongues hide behind a divine face.
So we ring around the roses,
Got my pockets full of fear.
Ashes, ashes. We all fall down.
We can't comprehend how everything on this tiny earth could be less than a spec in an instant.
But I still love you, I respect you,
But we can't stop for a moment.
|
||||
4. |
Information, Please
02:11
|
|||
|
I've been drifting from place to place.
Countless moments.
And all my thoughts have been erased.
Blank brain.
The horizon stares me down,
And a rescue you are not.
You can't define what you feel.
Outstretched arms.
Your song, you sing.
But I stutter.
Stumble imitate.
Change your mind.
I've got places I can fly.
|
||||
5. |
Wayward
02:31
|
|||
|
This love lost between us is an ocean of horror,
An empty sea of dismay,
Let us pray for redemption.
Words stain the air day after day,
While a lone voice cries out above the waves,
"What grace is this?"
As we stretched our hands out to the Lord,
We saw the light fade from our eyes,
And as we fell we realized that our last breath had been without God's grace,
And left us stranded, dead, unto the earth.
Priests sell fangs in holy places,
Just give us our rewards but don't show us our faces.
I'm trying not to blame the whole world,
But I'm just standing in the crowd.
Make no mistake, God is not American.
He raises no flag in the land of the free,
And the home of the grave.
|
||||
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