1. |
Cast Party
01:18
|
|
||
|
i'm no exception
i'm merely blending in.
discomfort in the skin i'm in
an art. deception.
and what's the point of an outlet when nothing seems to fit?
and nothing's sinking in. no nothing sticks.
chameleon personality.
on display. every day. a mundane
scene.
with the actors all the same
rehearsed lines. regurgitate.
for every feeling a new face
regurgitate the foot that i ate
regurgitate the problems i face
regurgitate the words that i swallow
regurgitate looks like i'm losing weight.
but wait.
and i'm sorry but, i've gotta leave before we eat
restless nights and uneasy dreams.
impatiently wait to greet me.
and i'm no exception.
i offer no solution.
deception.
|
||||
2. |
Failed Policy (Demo)
01:23
|
|
||
|
a tired pattern forming
a stock program so boring
a failed policy- but i won't disagree
in the privacy of my own apathy
is it just me, or is it just me?
it's just me
i engage
i indulge
i engage
i indulge
shackled to routine
of me me me
i am the slave and master
of my own debris
i love the tension
but hate the release
i love the tension
but i hate the release
and when it's over
i close my eyes. shake my head.
clean up. fix my bed.
I know that i'll do it again.
regret
|
||||
3. |
Tongue & Cheek (Demo)
01:40
|
|
||
|
she had a smile so illuminating
she had goals she had plans
self induced disease it changed everything
self induced disease it changed everything
and now she's seeing things that aren't even there
she hardly sleeps/she barely eats
swollen gums
sandpaper tongue
holes for teeth
trick or treat
the shadow people knocking at her door
she'll answer it and go back for more
she'll smile...relief
she never sleeps you can see it in her teeth
up for days
up for weeks
never sleeps
you can see it in her teeth
|
||||
4. |
Choir of One (Demo)
03:14
|
|
||
|
i'm sick, so fucking sick
of repeating- repeating it
and you're sick, so fucking sick
of hearing- hearing it
you call it complacency
i prefer redundancy
how many times can you ask me?
how much you making?
where you living?
who you fucking?
it's the same old, the same mold
a tired/boring conversation
where stories are told yet nothing unfolds
and i'm stuck in the middle of the road
and i'll preach to a choir of one
(i've been preaching to a choir of one)
a trite song, for as long as it takes
to believe- believe in myself
as days drone by
i fall shy
nothing ever complete
just done.
|
||||
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