1. |
Oil and Tar pt1
01:53
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2. |
Oil and Tar pt2
03:17
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Close your eyes and sing, the autumn hills will walk, with you, breathing down your neck.
To see how pale your skin is, as pale as a virgin, on her wedding day.
I´ve been drowning in this sea/thats been parting you and me/And it´s such a lonely sea/it´s such a lonely sea.
Oil and Tar, as layered skin,when I regret that have sinned and I repeat my own mistakes when you agree to take my arms, as wings.
The sky is made up from white walls so tall the squeak, interrupting whoever speaks, an introversive judgement that reeks of shame, so loyal that you took its blame. stealing.
Close your eyes and sing, the autumn hills will walk, with you, breathing down your neck.
To see how pale your skin is, as pale as a virgin, on her wedding day.
I´ve been drowning in this sea/thats been parting you and me/And it´s such a lonely sea/it´s such a lonely sea.
we counted them seven different sorcerers of the wild left alone by their wounds. I hired a painter, to create a new world left alone by the woods.
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3. |
Of Oceans And
04:45
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and so he laughed, created sound as his breath shot from his glottis and
ran up his cheeks as it reached after his lips and tried to grab on by his teeth.
the guardian angels did not care for gray lines, if entwined in black and white, if ever attached to a though, a simple idea, i in any way insight.
It does not seem as you codes apply to me, all our pretentious systems help us drown in this vast sea. I imagine thousands of veins entangled in every root of every plot twist twisting faith as if fate was not around.
An so his eyes, tied back to back saw through the shivers but could not counter attack. She saw his cloak stuck in his sheath, and she lost love and threw her relations away.
It was three months of complete happiness, three months of concrete loss, thrown aside by the entrance of winter, I have sewn a bag for all the splinters. As if i actually would believe that we need the again. Cus he came from the west and swept you of you feet, even a man with the face of a beast can make you walk away from me. And she was crowned a saint, and i hoped the you would take a faint moment, a last faint moment, to look me in the eyes. I need your sights again, the memories of the last ones is still hurting my mind. And i have supported this zone of discomfort for far to long.
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4. |
I´d Rather Be Sleeping
01:56
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A man is never as wise as the day he´s about to die. A person trapped beneath thoughts of life as the last breath of life slips by.
I dug a hole moved sand from one place and threw away dirt, I wasted time swimming in the ocean there´s no stains on my shirt.
Sleep is worthless to us, so don't waste you precious time, remembering old lullabies. I chased the evening all morning, when I found it by the end of the day, so caught up by the time I lost I slept the night away.
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5. |
Fake Poetry
04:41
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In this lyrical exploration I´l take a step back from poetry
With this hymn I´l save me from poverty
for these word are sung from my heart
screaming serenades for her to take part of
melodies sewn from the threads of my desire
strapped to my chest by the strongest of wires
In this lyrical exploration I´l take a step back from poetry
With this hymn I´l save me from poverty
to hold the heaviness given to it by its nature
and sink me in a sleep that will last forever.
You saw your life in every detail of my actions
with my initiative to do anything at all
the requirements for our existence is to take away all there is to breathe
smothered by the care I gave you
smothered by the feeling of need
this world was a have without saints and sinners, but as I found God
you erased my plane of existence and rose above
your beauty is enough evidence
to show the abstinence of balance
we walked over oceans washing our faces on the shores. A fistful of dirty lies from my cheeks down in the sand, a list full of promises never to be promised to anyone who shared their life as we did, not to feel so needed by anyone.
And I would like to say that death is the only one to make it out alive when we battle our lives
a constant fear of wanting to be dead but act only as if we wanted to survive
I laughed in fear of being to fortunate with exhaling of air, when i think for hour and hour and hour about thinking to much. Deflower my consciousness counting the days.
And I for one accept that my actions declare me a moron, as long as rivers
can run by my side in the end and bring me your floating shipwreck to repair.
I found smoke in the center of my loungs and so we found the fire. It was eating the oxygen of every tired little thing that rusts in the rain from the trust, and it stains.
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Same Old Pattern Stockholm, Sweden
An emotional rock five-piece from Stockholm.
Started in the summer of 2013.
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